


Greystone

by NorthStar



Series: The X Clan Saga [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Drama, Fighter AU, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rebellion!AU, So much angst, Violence, not a happy time, pretty much 4k action and 30k angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthStar/pseuds/NorthStar
Summary: They fight their own battles, but suddenly, that is not enough - and as the world closes in around them, even the dearest relationships can be reduced to bitter ashes.If nothing else, they always had each other. Had. Past tense.Very little of their previous camaraderie is left now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS (AND SPOILERS): heavy loads of angst, including self-doubt, implied self-harm, betrayal, and panic attacks, drugs, blood, war, exploitation, abuse.
> 
> So sorry for being MIA for a while, but it's been a busy time. You'll get more stuff soon.
> 
> I have seen a lot of All In AUs, but not many featuring the Fighter plot? So here is the sequel to Blue Moon that literally one person asked for. I really wanted to get it out before Beautiful, but since I had approx 2k when the comeback date was announced a couple of weeks ago... Well. One day late is not too bad, I'd say. I'm not entirely happy with it - feels terribly unfinished, but this time I just wanted to get it out quickly. Soz.
> 
> If you haven't read Blue Moon, I strongly recommend that you do so. There are a lot of references to incidents or qualities that were explored in depth in that fic, and I think you'd get confused without keeping that one in the back of your mind.

Hyunwoo is a good person.

 

He knows he is.

 

He might not be the loudest or most impressionable guy in the world, but he has always looked out for his friends, his uncle, his village, tried to protect the weaker and help them against the bullies who insisted on making their lives miserable. At least he tried – but he is just one man, hardly more than a boy, and physical bulk and a good heart can be countered by shadowed armies.

 

Once upon a time, he had faith in the goodness of the world. He thought he would be alright if he stayed true to what his uncle always taught him, if he kept his heart clean and intentions pure.

 

It was like a mantra, comforting, stable, and hopeful. He wouldn’t repeat it to himself, not consciously, anyway, but in hindsight he recognizes how much this belief dictated his behaviour for years.

 

First when their village was stormed. Quickly, brutally, mercilessly. He was a child, scared easily and confused by this invasion from seemingly out of nowhere. He clung to his uncle and comforted his friends, telling them it would be okay, because that’s what he thought at the time. He thought it was just a temporary thing, like when they were younger and the village was hit by a raging snowstorm for weeks – that ended too, and surely this would pass in a while, with nothing but frightful memories of a suppressed time.

 

Minhyuk’s parents were killed. It was a terrible, but unfortunately not isolated incident, and Hyunwoo had tried his best to be there for Minhyuk, helping him cope, reminding him that he was still loved and protected. They had all tried their best, and though Minhyuk was inconsolable, Hyunwoo thought it would be okay with time, because Minhyuk was a good person too. He would be okay.

 

Then there was the fire, rattling the entire community and crippling some of Hyunwoo’s best friends – both mentally and physically. He will never forget the dead man walking with the name Hoseok during those days, after he lost his brother and beloved hero. Nor can he erase the image of Changkyun, grey apart from reddened eyes, keeping vigil at Kihyun’s hospital bed for weeks without any signs of improvement until finally, finally, Kihyun awoke half a man.

 

It was a horrible time, but still, _still_ Hyunwoo had some faith in the good of the world. He thought, the good guys always win. Good things come to those who wait. Goodness trumps evil.

 

And Hyunwoo is a good person. Always was, always will be.

 

He stuck to that philosophy even at that point.

 

But then his uncle fell ill – deadly sick, and received no help from the state. No one else could take care of him, only Hyunwoo – hospital bills, the garage, the house, suddenly everything fell to him.

 

And he failed.

 

Or maybe he didn’t fail, but at least the world stopped having even the smallest bit of mercy on him, and despite his best efforts, despite compromising his integrity and belief and falling into crime to save his uncle – despite it all, he couldn’t do anything to stop the death of his only guardian and idol ever.

 

Hyunwoo is a good person, but then –

 

Maybe being a good person doesn’t help.

 

Bad things happen to good people – and it’s not always remedied.

 

That’s why Hyunwoo is imprisoned.

 

That’s why Hyunwoo lets his anger stew.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Fishes in the water, mosquitos in the wind, comets in the sky.

 

His hand is itchy.

 

There is a little spot, just behind his right thumb and somewhere above the joint, a tiny tiny spot that itches. It’s probably right next to his little mole, maybe it’s even _on_ his mole, and he almost wishes it was, because that would be beautiful. Poetic, almost. A spot marked by pigments, and a spot attacked by tiny, prickling stabs

 

But it’s annoying that it itches.

 

He wishes it wouldn’t. His head hurts enough as it is, and while an itch isn’t painful, it is unpleasant, especially when he can’t scratch it.

 

His hands won’t move.

 

Oh.

 

Oh well.

 

Can he move his lips?

 

Well, sort of.

 

They are dry and cracked. Let’s not move anymore, then, they will get worse.

 

What about his tongue? His tongue can move. It brushes against the back of his teeth, and they feel like small bricks underneath a warm roof. His mouth is like a building – like a house. There is a soft, plush carpet, brick walls, a roof and something living, moving around in there. It even has a basement, except that basement is bigger than the house itself. Much, much bigger.

 

That is problematic.

 

Maybe he should sleep on the issue.

 

Yes, sleep. Yes.

 

Good.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

They have taken refuge in an old school at the edge of nothingness.

 

Broken down, abandoned, scarred and forgotten – that’s all it is now, and Changkyun laughs bitterly and points out that it fits them perfectly.

 

Hoseok is not amused.

 

Neither is Jooheon, who frowns and complains that they are not taking this seriously.

 

But they are.

 

They are taking it very seriously.

 

They have been given this small break, a sanctuary in the middle of a war zone where they will serve their struggling side as best they can, and though it seems quiet out here, everything they do is a matter of life and death. Their own, and those around them, and those they cannot see.

 

So Jooheon says, anyway, and mostly, they take his words at face value.

 

Besides, they need a respite, a fresh start away from the frontlines, without black soldiers breathing down their necks at any given time during the day, without death lingering in the periphery of their vision. This will be something else, and it’s something only they can do.

 

It’s all thanks to Jooheon - his whispers and stories circulating around the top levels of the resistance, feeding them ideas, igniting sparks of innovation for those opportunistic enough to use it.

 

The resistance is running a poor economy, and while it attracts youngsters with dreams, ambitions and strength, they do not generate great financial sums. But that is what the resistance needs – firepower is in demand, more so than manpower, but heavy weaponry is hard to come across these days. They are expensive, heavily regulated and guarded with an almost religious devotion by the forces of the military. There are alternative channels, but the stronger the resistance grows, the more cluttered and scarce these channels become.

 

And while weaponry is the main concern, those are not the only expenses the resistance faces.

 

It’s a problem that reached Jooheon’s ears, eventually, as he keeps climbing the ladders of the hierarchy in the resistance. They adore him, his fire, his resourcefulness, his ingenious and his passion for the freedom of the people – and when his stories start circulating, he is kept warm and dear under the wings of the big names in the resistance.

 

The timing is convenient, and not exactly incidental – they are still reeling from a rough skirmish by an abandoned clutter of farmhouses, one which left them with much more than rough cuts and big bruises. They lost two of their own that day – one to death and the other to loyalty.

 

At least, that’s what it looked like from their vantage point, hidden behind the wreckage of an old silo while the soldiers wrestled Minhyuk away from Hyungwon’s unresponsive figure under the bridge.

 

Kihyun is convinced that they are both dead.

 

Hoseok tries to be optimistic, pointing out that the soldiers could have just lodged a bullet in Minhyuk’s head immediately instead of taking off.

 

Changkyun just shrugs and says that, at least it’s better than what they’re doing to Hyunwoo.

 

That doesn’t clarify which one of them he believes.

 

Jooheon swallows hard, gives them all a pat on the back, and urges them to look forward in trying times, regardless of how hard it is. He cries the hardest, but as soon as the tears slip away from his eyes, his gaze turns steely, bracing himself to be an example of his own philosophy. He isn’t fooling anyone, but at the same time, they have to respect his efforts.

 

And they follow him.

 

They follow him all the way to the old school, looking more like a ghost town than a centre for education, and listen to him explaining their new assignment from the resistance.

 

And that’s when they stop following him.

 

“Hyung,” Changkyun says cautiously, almost daring Jooheon to dispel his worries before he has expressed them. “No. This – this is our secret. If there is anything holy to us, it’s got to be this.”

 

Kihyun nods, once, and Hoseok looks like he agrees as well.

 

“I know, I know,” Jooheon sighs. He knew this argument would come up, he knew the others would want to keep it hidden, keep it pure. Keep it as a symbol of their professed brotherhood, the one that _he_ had declared, but it can’t be helped anymore. “I wouldn’t do this if we didn’t have to, but these are trying times – and as much as I’d like for this to be something we can keep to ourselves, we need to consider the contribution to the cause. If we had any better ideas, I’d love for us to ignore it, but we can’t. The resistance needs sacrifices – _war_ needs sacrifices. Are we really selfish enough to keep this to ourselves when it might help tip this in the resistance’s favour?”

 

Changkyun still doesn’t look convinced, but the point is irrefutable. There is nothing he can say that doesn’t sound childish or petulant – it’s not as if they have indulged themselves and relished in the intoxication of the bluebird since they left their old village, anyway. Certainly not now, when they are not complete – when they are missing half of their brothers with no set reunion date, if any.

 

Hoseok shakes his head with a loud sigh, but moves to stand next to Jooheon with a small, if slightly sheepish smile. It’s not entirely heartfelt, but Jooheon appreciates the act of support anyway. He knows it is all about him, about giving him an ally and showing their appreciation of his efforts, and while it’s not much, he is grateful for Hoseok nonetheless.

 

“I’m not happy about it, but if you say it’s for the best, I will trust you.”

 

Hoseok, the hero, the mediator, the steadfast.

 

Kihyun will stand by Changkyun, regardless of what he himself actually thinks about the proposition – Jooheon is unable to read his expression, only seeing a thoughtful hesitation as he accepts the hand Changkyun brushes over his fingertips. When he turns his head slightly to lock eyes with Changkyun, Jooheon notices the little x behind his ear.

 

He swallows and looks away.

 

“What will you do if we refuse?” Changkyun asks, quietly.

 

We.

 

If _we_ refuse.

 

Yes, Jooheon isn’t blind. He knows very well how the dynamics in their group has changed as of late.

 

“Nothing,” Jooheon states bluntly, truthfully. “I can’t force you into doing anything – and I don’t want to do that, either. But you have to know that if you don’t, the resistance…” He pauses, considers his next words carefully. He would never lie to his friends, but it’s all about framing his proposition in a favourable manner.

 

“If you don’t, the resistance might cease to exist in the nearest future. We’re getting by, but just barely, and it won’t take more than one nasty surprise to set us back to a place of no return. And then, this all… Everything will be in vain. Everything we, and the others, have done and suffered up until this point. It could be rendered pointless in minutes, if we don’t have any form of security backing us up.”

 

This is not going to be the only source of capital for the resistance. It’s not going to be the backbone of their fighters and leaders for the next years to come, and it doesn’t decide the outcome of the war.

 

But everything helps – and some things help more than others.

 

And Jooheon knows this will help a lot.

 

But it is also a way to keep his friends out of the line of fire for a little while longer.

 

They all agree, of course, begrudgingly perhaps, but resigned more than anything else.

 

They set up a working space for Hoseok in the main hall of the old school, bringing in old machinery parts and stolen blueprints of similar machines. Hoseok has shown, again and again, that his talents are wasted on physical labour and babysitting, and with an eye for details and interest in engineering, he is given the main task of designing the machine. Changkyun and Kihyun will help him out, when he needs them to, but mostly, they are given their own tasks.

 

Kihyun stays close to other informants from the resistance – searching and performing secret operations, stealth jobs that he has proven to be particularly good at. Setting up networks. Spreading the word.

 

Meanwhile, Changkyun starts the faux business by himself.

 

They all take turns preparing the products in one of the back rooms, and it’s a slow process, painfully so, and they moan for the times when Hoseok’s machine will be ready to do this all in a second.

 

Hopefully, anyway.

 

In the meantime, Changkyun fills the vials and delivers them to their initial customers. Gets it out there, follows Kihyun’s instructions, negotiates relationships with future regulars.

 

The start-up is quite quick. Efficient, busy, and they don’t really have the time to think about what they are doing.

 

But when they do stop, they realize that what they are doing is not as simple as it seems.

 

And Jooheon has left them to stay with the central resistance.

 

That’s when trouble starts.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hoseok trudges over to the old office they had turned into a makeshift bedroom at some point, ruffling his hair with a small sigh.

 

He’s tired. He wants to have a nap.

 

The room only has two cots serving as beds, but it works out alright. They usually don’t sleep at the same time, night and day blending into one another as they meander around trying to complete their various assignments, and even if they do, it’s not like they mind sharing. Hoseok had offered to sleep on the floor, one night when him, Changkyun and Kihyun had coincidentally ended up resting at the same time – Jooheon hardly comes around anymore, so it’s mostly just the three of them anyway.

 

Hoseok had reasoned that as the oldest, he should take the floor – he could come back in and nap anytime during the day anyway, so it wasn’t like his sleep cycle was as dictated by his assignments in the same way that theirs were. And with Kihyun’s fragile back and Changkyun’s susceptibility to colds, he would never consider letting either one of them sleep on the cement ground.

 

But they had given him a _look,_ one Hoseok is pretty sure Changkyun had picked up from Kihyun at some point and perfected, and it was almost comical, the way he suddenly had twin pair of exasperated eyes staring him down from across the room. Neither of them look particularly threatening by themselves, soft cheeks and small statures rather invoking associations to innocent children than outlaws, although Hoseok supposes he knows better now. Still, he had only raised an eyebrow at their silent messages – sometimes they still forget that the rest of their little makeshift family isn’t as good at non-verbal communication as they are.

 

“What?” He had said as he grabbed a blanket from the end of one bed, preparing to spread it out on the floor. “What?”

 

“Hyung, sleep on the bed,” Changkyun had said with a pout and nodded towards the bed against the far side of the room. “We’re not gonna let you sleep on the floor, it’s cold and nasty. We’ll share one.”

 

Kihyun nodded at that, even as Hoseok frowned.

 

“No, that’s not necessary, I’ll – “

 

“It’s fine, it’s not like we’ve never slept together back… at the orphanage,” Changkyun doesn’t like speaking about their previous home. In some ways, it was never a home. But Hoseok still thinks it’s more of a home than this place. “And besides, none of us are really that tall. You need a bed for yourself, hyung. It’s cool. Take it.”

 

And after some persuasion and quiet glares from Kihyun, Hoseok did. And he had to admit, it was kind of nice seeing Changkyun and Kihyun curling up together on the small cot, looking almost like before, when everything was…. Not happy, but _simpler._ Before they started to drift apart as various battles tugged them all away in different directions.

 

Coming here had been hard for them. Some more than others – Changkyun in particular struggled to adapt, Hoseok had seen that. With what they were doing, how it separated them – and how it put a wedge between him and Kihyun.

 

For the past three years, he had been the one to look after Kihyun, pushing him back up when he fell, tying him to the outside world. But the braces and medication had given Kihyun new life, new jobs, a new independence. It was probably hard for Changkyun to accept that every time Kihyun walked out that door to perform whatever dubious task the resistance put him up to, he couldn’t be there to protect him anymore. He didn’t know what they made Kihyun do, but he knew it was bad. Hoseok did too, and though they had never talked about it before, they did share concerned glances whenever Kihyun limped back in the door to promptly fall asleep in a corner, or the way he squared his shoulders and steeled his eyes with a thick wall of ice before leaving.

 

They all had to change.

 

Not everything was for the better, and whenever Hoseok sees Changkyun and Kihyun like that, wrapped around each other or sharing silent looks uninterpretable to anyone but themselves, he can’t help but long for those old times. They didn’t have a lot, but at least they were together back then. Helping each other through their struggles and coming together at the end of the day to pretend that everything was okay.

 

It was them against the world, but now they are involved with others – fighting blind battles against a force almost rendered intangible in its distance, blurring lines and wondering exactly what cause they were heralding through their efforts. Hoseok doesn’t know anymore, and Changkyun has similar doubts. He’s not sure what Kihyun thinks. Jooheon is definitely enamoured with the resistance, but Hoseok wonders if he sees something different than the rest of them. The faith he has in their contacts, the eagerness and passion – it’s not like Jooheon would ever fight for something bad, but Hoseok wonders if he sees it all, the doubts, the negative sides of the bluebird, the extortion and violence…

 

The victims.

 

But such thoughts never lead him anywhere good, and Hoseok reminds himself to believe. Believe in their friends, believe in the ones who gave them shelter and replenished their lives – believe in the common cause they are fighting for. If nothing else, Hoseok will keep going, for his friends. His family.

 

The trek from his workroom to the office is short, but it only takes a second of distraction for Hoseok’s mind to fall into those thoughts again. He keeps telling himself to stop thinking about the past and an uncertain future, just focusing on the present, but it’s hard when he’s alone in the forger most of the day. His only company is his own, and what else is there to think about as he slams the hammer or twists the wires for this new, dangerous machine? He doesn’t want to think about what he is building either, and happy distractions are woefully lacking.

 

His favourite times of the day – when the others come home, and when he gets to sleep. Sleep is oblivion. Sleep is bliss.

 

When he nudges the door open with his foot, he is biting his lip and trying to make himself consider the power of the chord he needs to connect the generator and the pulper, if nothing else then to chase away his worries and focus on something technical, impersonal – small enough to isolate from its larger context. But then Changkyun is there, sitting on one of the cots with his feet tucked under himself and focusing intently on the handheld game Hoseok repaired for him a couple of weeks ago.

 

It’s a welcome distraction.

 

“Changkyun?” Hoseok asks, and the boy’s attention shifts from the game to the intruder. “I thought you were still out?”

 

“Oh no, I got back an hour ago,” Changkyun smiles sheepishly and puts the console down. “I parked the bike in the back, I need to oil it before my next round. This way I won’t forget. Came up through the fire exit, sorry, I should’ve stopped by to say hi, but I thought you’d be working.”

 

“Well, I was, but I’d never mind company,” Hoseok shrugs and pulls his sweater over his head. He should probably take a shower, but everything in their base smells like dirt and sweat anyway. Clean, warm water is a far rarer resource than hygiene.

 

Changkyun doesn’t mind either, he knows. They both understand that the humid fall, with its high temperatures and suffocating nights, requires a lot of sacrifices. Privacy is one of them, but after growing up together, there are few things the boys haven’t seen already.

 

“I’ll stop by next time,” Changkyun promises and flashes him a smile. Hoseok knows he means it, and it is a small sliver of joy in an increasingly bleak existence.

 

Changkyun is the one that is the most involved with the direct negative consequences of what they do – perhaps apart from Kihyun, but who knows what he is doing – and every little laugh, every smile or every wink is a small victory to Hoseok. He just wants Changkyun to keep being happy, to see him still being able to enjoy life despite it all.

 

Despite…

 

“Where’s Kihyun?”

 

Changkyun’s smile falls, and Hoseok wishes he didn’t ask.

 

“I don’t know,” Changkyun mumbles, turns back to his game. “Hyung left earlier this morning…. Haven’t seen him since. I hope he’s okay, he didn’t bring his pills.”

 

“I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” Hoseok says, and it’s an absolute _lie,_ because he doesn’t know that, not anymore, but he has to say it to pacify Changkyun’s worries.

 

It’s probably not as effective as he’d like it to be.

 

“I just wish he’d listen to me,” Changkyun shrugs, biting his lip. When Hoseok doesn’t answer, he glances up, eyes almost hopeful, but mostly dejected. Hurt.

 

Hoseok knows Kihyun wouldn’t want this, but yet, here they are –

 

And Hoseok doesn’t know how to mediate this.

 

“I know, Changkyunnie,” he says instead, and sits down on the cot next to Changkyun. “I know. I wish he’d do that too.”

 

Changkyun scoots closer and lets his head fall on Hoseok’s shoulder, feeling Hoseok’s arm wrap itself around his waist.

 

It’s strange to Hoseok, not because he is uncomfortable with the intimacy in any way – it’s just that, this is usually a position reserved for Changkyun and Kihyun. And Kihyun isn’t here – but he still feel as if he is intruding, touching something sacred.

 

But for all his worries that he shouldn’t, he knows that he needs to fill this void – now, at least, if not for long.

 

Hopefully not for long.

 

“I wish he’d listen to us.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Five hundred and thirty-seven tiles. That’s an ugly number, and it should be something else. Even, pretty, aesthetic. A chessboard is perfect in its symmetry, black, white, black, white, black, white, black, white, black, white –

 

Beautiful. Orderly. Understandable. The contrasts glare at his eyes, but his mind is eased by the perfect squares with the straight sides, the equal sides, the way the squares slot into other squares. Creating another bigger square. Set off by square colours. Black and white have no substance or memory, they cannot be soft or sharp, kind or aggressive. They just are. Still. Even. Complimentary. Like the squares. The squares that slot into each other oh-so perfectly.

 

But the stars in the sky are not even.

 

They don’t go together in a perfect pattern. One star here, three stars there, and a clutter over by the edge of the horizon.

 

They are not black and white either.

 

They should be black and white, because they aren’t really anything else, but at the same time they can’t be just black and white. The sky is slightly blue – navy, paler, like it is when the sun is up. Softer? But black isn’t harsh at all. But the night sky is softer than the chess board. How can that be?

 

The stars aren’t white either. They are yellowish at times. Like the silly little stars kids draw with their crayons the colour of snot and shit, and there is nothing beautiful about that. It’s just dumb and naïve and everything but charming.

 

Then why are stars so pretty?

 

It doesn’t make sense. A chessboard is beautiful. A chessboard makes sense, it is satisfying and symmetric and even and everything that the world should be. It makes sense.

 

The night sky does not make sense at all, and it shouldn’t be pretty at all with all its flaws.

 

But it is.

 

Everyone says it’s beautiful. Everyone in the world agrees that the sky is beautiful. He can’t say anything else either. But it’s weird. Because it should be wrong.

 

How can something so ordered and something so chaotic both be beautiful and right?

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Changkyun supposes he should be happy.

 

The resistance are just people as well, people with a cause and enough determination to do anything it takes to reach their goal.

 

They could have brushed off the boys from the orphanage because of their age and unimpressive background – they could have refused _Kihyun_ because of his still fragile condition. They could have refused to accept such a liability into their ranks.

 

But they didn’t.

 

Instead, they welcomed the boys and treated them well, gave them food, a place to stay, weapons, plans, a network, rehabilitation – they _invested_ in them, commissioned braces for Kihyun and stole pain medication to help him cope, they saw Jooheon’s and knowledge and gave him opportunities to make a difference, they gave Hoseok something to do with his brain as well as his muscles for the first time in years –

 

Changkyun supposes he should be grateful.

 

But he _isn’t._

Because for everything the resistance has given them, they have also taken a lot away – their independence and freedom, whatever it was worth. It’s a mutual exchange, Changkyun understands that, tools and help in exchange for services. In exchange for a fight.

 

And the fight…

 

Changkyun isn’t so sure about the way the resistance works. Their methods and their goals all sound vague and dubious to Changkyun – while he wants the black soldiers gone as much as any peaceful, young boy from the countryside, he doesn’t want to exploit innocent people to get it done. He doesn’t want to spill blood to get other brutes away from power. Doesn’t want to step on the ignorant, struggling masses to participate in a power battle that can only result in more conflict.

 

Because even if the resistance does manage to fend off the black soldiers, what then? Where will they go from there?

 

They are rogues, outlaws and young ideologists, not politicians or strategic planners. A few defectors from the military, but nothing more structured than that, Changkyun thinks.

 

Anarchy is one of the last words he learnt before they left the village. Anarchy, is what he thinks the country will fall into if this keeps up long enough. Civil war, the deaths of thousands, suffering.

 

And the resistance is using them as tools to walk straight into this doom.

 

Changkyun knows it.

 

If nothing else, at least they had each other back at the orphanage. They only had to resist what was being done to them, and could always take comfort in the solidarity of the other boys.

 

Now… Now they have to face the consequences of what they are doing themselves. They are the bad guys – and they have keep to their secrets, look only after their own job, perform their own duties to the rebellion, and try to pretend that their new existence isn’t breaking them down each day.

 

Alone.

 

Confused.

 

Changkyun hates his new existence.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It’s a wretched feeling.

 

Jooheon hasn’t been back at the school where the others are staying for a while.

 

Four-five days, approximately.

 

It’s not that much, and certainly not unusual for Jooheon – even back in their old little village, he used to take off and stay away for days without notice. The other boys were not too happy about it, but they could never object to it, because they understood. They understood why he needed to leave, and they couldn’t deny the benefits he brought back.

 

So Jooheon is no stranger to this distance between him and his friends.

 

It’s just that, this time, he isn’t staying away because he is savouring what little freedom he has, he isn’t staying away to collect supplies or exchange information with neighbours. He is not staying away because he can or because he feels he should.

 

He is staying away because he doesn’t want to go back to the others.

 

Never in his life has Jooheon doubted his love for the other boys, and he isn’t going to start now. But that is why he dreads going back – he doesn’t want to fuel the sparks of conflict that has come between them lately. If he goes back, he will have to deal with the tension, the disagreements, and the detriment of their moods in face of adversity.

 

Their diminishing faith in the rebellion.

 

That’s what it all boils down to, in the end – they don’t have Jooheon’s unfaltering dedication.

 

If he stays away, he doesn’t have to face that doubt. He doesn’t have to face the consequences of his friends’ suffering, doesn’t have to try to convince them that the cause is true, doesn’t have to watch them gang up on him.

 

It hasn’t happened yet, and as far as he knows they remain loyal.

 

But he feels their fright, their doubts and discomfort every time he comes back. It started with their reluctance towards producing and selling the drugs, but like the tip of an iceberg, it piles up and becomes something bigger. He knows that there are seeds of doubt in them all, seeds that are slowly taking hold with the passing of time. From day to day, when another innocent victim suffers without help, when the soldiers curb another failed resurgence in some small town, whenever they fight and only cause more suffering in their path towards justice.

 

It’s a terrible time right now.

 

But the temporary suffering will pave the way to victory and release, freedom for all and finally peace.

 

It’s why they need to act the way they do. No wars were ever won by paper mills, and if they want to chase away their oppressors, they need to stand up on their own two feet and raise their voices, their arms, their guns.

 

It’s brutal, but it’s true.

 

Changkyun is the least willing to follow the resistance’s methods.

 

Has always been, since the beginning, and it pains Jooheon, because he used to consider Changkyun one of his best friends among the boys in the village. And now, they’re almost reduced to strangers already –

 

Even though the fight is far from over.

 

In fact, it has just begun.

 

Jooheon needs the others to see that, but he hopes they will realize it by themselves – in the meantime, he has a war to wage.

 

War stops for no man.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Jooheon had told him about a man that might be able to help them. A man that is an outcast, reserved, and more than anything, a wildcard. He hides in the shadows with his most trusted servants, guards, whatever they might be called, and likes to avoid trouble for the most part. He refuses to enter the resistance, instead opting to stay on the fringes of the law and give them a nudge in the right direction, a carefully packaged gift if he feels the need. He is a sympathiser, at best – if nothing else, then at least because he has always favoured an anarchic society where authorities have better things to do than pick at his hairs, telling him what to do.

 

He is an independent man, and the recent development has only pushed him further towards the rebels.

 

But in the end, he has his own agenda, one that does not always coincide with the ambitions of the resistance.

 

Most people hear his name, and assume he doesn’t exist because all they ever hear are ghost stories with few to no similarities or recurring qualities that can be used to create an image of the man.

 

Others like to pretend that they never met him.

 

Will is a man shrouded in mystery, but he is undoubtedly powerful, and if anyone can help Kihyun, it would be him.

 

In hindsight, it is almost a miracle that he was able to meet up with Will in the first place.

 

But words of his special skills, as well as his desperation, must have spread like wildfire, because at some point during his search, Kihyun found himself face to face with Will, reluctant and opportunistic ally of the resistance.

 

And where Kihyun had usually received special missions from the resistance before, they suddenly changed to Will’s tasks.

 

Secret tasks.

 

Dangerous tasks – unpleasant tasks.

 

But Kihyun knew, this was a once in a lifetime chance. He couldn’t let his newfound relationship with Will go to waste, he couldn’t lose the professional trust he was slowly accumulating with the outlaw.

 

Will could give him what he wanted, eventually, but Kihyun had to prove himself first.

 

Again, and again.

 

And over time, Kihyun fell into the part like a trained lapdog – dangerous, with teeth and barks, and only a leash to keep him under control.

 

It’s not an entirely accurate picture, Kihyun thinks, because he doesn’t take pleasure in what he does – he doesn’t thrive on the smell of blood, doesn’t curl his fingers after a gun during idle times. In fact, he despises it. But it he has a skill, he has got to put it to use – for the resistance, for his family – for Changkyun.

 

That’s what he tells himself when Will taunts him, when he gives him another pesky detail or another hint that keeps Kihyun around for just a little bit longer until he gets what he needs.

 

Will was the one who made him dye his hair pink.

 

“Why?” Kihyun had asked, frowning, running a hair through his brown fringe. An unassuming colour, anonymous, simple. Natural. Pink is nothing like that, an impracticality and an overall odd choice, and Kihyun doesn’t see why Will would care about his hair colour at all.

 

But then he sees Will smile under his hood, chuckling a little to himself.

 

“You are a weapon, but I am only lending you,” he says. “And I want to see you when you come for me.”

 

It’s his condition for continuous cooperation with Kihyun, and by the end of the week, his hair is bleached and dyed a painful, pink warning light.

 

Kihyun hates it, and Hoseok and Changkyun gives him hell about it – why would he do that? Such a strange decision, he’s making a target of himself – and in the end, Hoseok had taken a blue marker to his own light hair, creating a matching neon shade, and joked that Changkyun should do his in a greenish colour.

 

Kihyun knows he did it to show support, but when Changkyun had flat-out refused, saying he wouldn’t do anything so silly to compromise his security, the effort fell flat, and all that was left were questions.

 

But Kihyun won’t tell them. He can’t.

 

He would put a mark on their heads as well, and not from the black soldiers.

 

Will is not a hero of the oppressed.

 

He is filth.

 

A filth who knows how to survive.

 

Kihyun needs to learn from his example if he wants to go anywhere in this fight.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Quietude.

 

It’s twilight and the school is slowly growing dimmer. Most rooms are stripped of electricity and any source of illumination needs to be brought the old fashioned way, to save their resources and keep quiet, but Changkyun doesn’t mind.

 

He enjoys the darkness, the quietude and ease it brings. It’s as soothing as anything, in this twisted existence where he can’t even look at his friends without feeling a pull in his gut.

 

For a few precious moments, he steals away into a corner by the old pool. He curls up in the dark, all alone, pretending that the world around them doesn’t exist. If it doesn’t exist, it can’t torment them. It’s just a painful dream, meandering slowly into a nightmare.

 

The bears are strewn around him in careless heaps. He is supposed to work, he knows this.

 

He doesn’t want to work.

 

The bears, harmless as they look, are tools, vessels for sadness and despair and trouble – the trouble that Changkyun willingly delivers to poor people who probably deserves better.

 

Their innards pour out on the floor as well, cotton and old rags and whatever else people has thought to fill old toys with over the past years. All kinds of plush toys, ranging from piglets to squirrels and kittens, but mostly bears, sitting upright with long limbs and pretty bows. Their big eyes smile up at him, innocent and childish – and Changkyun cuts open their bellies without hesitation.

 

That’s his job – his role in this game.

 

They all have different duties to perform, and all things considered, Changkyun supposes his is an easy one. Not strenuous in the least, easy and quick. He doesn’t return home with heavy legs and exhausted arms like Kihyun, nor does he have to nurse headaches in the evenings after pouring over machines for the entire day like Hoseok. His job is kinder than that. But its simplicity is a curse in other ways, because Changkyun’s day is full of breaks, his mind is always free to think – and he thinks about a lot of things, and none of them are pleasant.

 

He thinks about their life before.

 

He thinks about their life before the soldiers.

 

He thinks about their life under the soldiers.

 

He thinks about their life now.

 

He thinks about Hyungwon and Minhyuk and Hyunwoo, locked up somewhere under watchful eyes and hostile hands, probably suffering in ways Changkyun cannot even imagine. He is glad he isn’t locked up, but then he feels guilty for thinking such a thing, because he doesn’t want his friends to be locked up either. And then he just feels bad about everything.

 

He thinks about Hoseok, about how hard he tried to keep them all together as time passed by. How much he struggled to keep everyone happy, and how it was all in vain, in the end. He thinks about the hours Hoseok spends pouring over the new machine in the main hall, the smith where he forges the new parts, the complicated drawings that make Changkyun’s vision swim just by looking at them.

 

He thinks about the small sobs Hoseok thinks no one hears, at night, when he’s tucked into bed in the darkness after a long day. The loneliness and the growing sense of failure.

 

Then Changkyun thinks about Kihyun.

 

He wants to say that he doesn’t recognize Kihyun anymore, that his new behaviour is so different from the boy from his childhood, but that’s a lie. It’s still Kihyun. It’s just that he isn’t held back anymore.

 

Instead, he has taken to do everything he can just to prove that he is able to – walks without his crutches just for the sake of it, even when he is back at the school and can let his back rest, he helps Hoseok with the heavy loads and claims that his arm strength should be good after so long, he disappears for hours and hours and doesn’t tell Changkyun what he is doing.

 

It’s worrying.

 

What could he possibly do, that he can’t tell Changkyun?

 

Kihyun has always been a perfectionist, proud despite his vulnerabilities, and now that he doesn’t have to accept his limits, he ignores them and avoids even showing that he has weaknesses. It’s frustrating, because Changkyun knows all of them already – he has already seen Kihyun at his weakest, as well as his strongest.

 

Kihyun has nothing to prove to him.

 

And yet….

 

Yet, he brushes off Changkyun’s concern and tells him not to worry, smiles at him, fake, and reassures him that everything is okay, that Changkyun should worry about his own job.

 

And Changkyun does worry about his own job.

 

In fact, he spends as much time thinking about his job as he thinks about his friends.

 

And more specifically, the people on the other end of his job.

 

Every time he cuts open the soft bellies of the plush animals and replaces the soft inside with cold, hard glass vials, he thinks about the people taking the teddy bears home. The people buying short-term solutions that doesn’t solve, but merely postpone their problems, the people that use their secret so frivolously and carelessly.

 

And then they will suffer.

 

Some of their newest customers had already been through a plethora of weird substances, the stink of dependence radiating from five feet away, and Changkyun had almost refused to even approach these people. But he had to – and then afterwards, he met new people, still young and living, but desperate, sad, or just middlemen. And Changkyun thinks, are their lives going to be ruined as well? Is he enabling the kind of self-destructive behaviour he sees in Kihyun – if by other methods?

 

It makes him uneasy, and after his first delivery run on the bicycle, he had fallen over in a bush and promptly thrown up.

 

It doesn’t get better after that, but he has learned to cope, somehow.

 

He has learned to see the issues for what they are, and searches for support in his remaining friends.

 

When they are there – when they are available.

 

Hoseok is in the forger again, but Kihyun and Jooheon are both out. Changkyun doesn’t know when either of them will be back, and it frustrates him endlessly. He picks up his game again – it’s juvenile, he knows, but he never had this sort of thing growing up, and despite its simplicity, it’s a nice distraction.

 

It makes the hours pass quicker.

 

It allows him to ignore the momentum of his problems for a little while longer – a small break.

 

It’s all he can hope for these days.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hyunwoo is a good person.

 

But he doesn't know what constitutes a good person in this world he is living in.

 

He knows he wants to be good to people, wants them to live peacefully, wants to let them do their own thing.

 

But more than anything, he wants his loved ones to be happy - and that seems to be easier said than done. His best efforts couldn't save his uncle, couldn't keep his friends safe when their lives were threatened. Is he a bad person for letting that happen? Maybe, if he had done something differently, they would have been better off. Maybe he needs to prioritise - maybe keeping everyone happy isn't possible, and he needs to look only at those close to him. Maybe that's what being a good person means.

 

He knows the rolling, burning feeling in his stomach is rage. He knows it is a desire to strike back, to take action against those who hurt his family. 

 

But that's destructive - that's hatred, and that isn't a trait of good people. 

 

At least that's what he thought. 

 

But maybe he was wrong.

 

Maybe good people are just people who use their bad feelings for good things. Maybe he can still be a good person, if he protects his friends when he gets out. If he uses his vengeful desires to punish the bar people - because surely these soldiers didn't have any reason for behaving like monsters - then he can remain a good person and still use his strength for something good, take his resolve as motivation and direct his fists the right way.

 

That is the way it should be, he thinks.

 

Not like how he was before – passive, an onlooker, docile and weak.

 

He is strong, but he needs to use his strength – and he is preparing himself for that now.

 

In the past, he must have mistaken weakness for kindness, and wishes for justice.            

 

Oh, how wrong he was.

 

There is no peace, and there will never be a peace, not like this – one day they won’t fight the black soldiers, but some other, terrifying force, and new generations will have to face the reality that nothing good will come out of a patient gentleness. Only suffering, loss, and defeat.

 

Hyunwoo has learned that the hard way now.

 

It’s not a mistake he will make again.

 

There will be no peace, but he can help the people closest to him – he can help them survive the war instead.

 

Where he failed his uncle, he will not fail his friends.

 

But he can’t do anything from within his prison cell.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

They didn’t suddenly join the resistance.

 

It was not like flicking a switch, and in the blink of an eye, the resistance carried them away from the orphanage and put them to independent work in a convenient location for months and years until victory was at hand.

 

Jooheon was given a pass first – shortly after his initial contact with some outposts near their village, and then he stayed away for days and weeks trying to earn their trust and the inclusion of his friends to the cause as well.

 

It was during this time they came for Hyunwoo, with accusations and charges and testimonies, when they came to imprison him rather than bringing him into custody.

 

The first time, they had to let him go on the basis of lack of evidence, but then the old man running the post office came forward with a confession about the robbery shortly prior. Jooheon never doubted that the soldiers had beaten the confession out of him – that they had forced the identity of the robber much like they had forced Hyunwoo to commit the robbery in the first place, and it is not the old man’s fault that Hyunwoo’s sins are brought to light again.

 

He hadn’t struggled at the time, had simply listened to the accusations and the evidence they claimed to have against him, and surrendered when they smacked the cuffs on his wrists. He had seemed resigned, sad if anything, not necessarily accepting – merely without hope.

 

They took him away, and none of the other boys knew where they put him after that.

 

But it was not with them.

 

This had only fuelled Jooheon’s anger, and that anger was what finally won him the favours of the resistance.

 

First, they gave them one gun.

 

One gun Jooheon was able to smuggle into the orphanage, much like he had smuggled everything else for years, and the boys had gathered around the room in awe to look at the rugged, worn, but lethal weapon.

 

They hadn’t done anything but stare it that night, stared at it before hiding it carefully beneath a loose plank under Changkyun’s bed, and then they went back to the greenhouse. To celebrate. To mark a small victory. To enjoy their brotherhood once more.

 

Slowly, they start doing more experiments with it.

 

Hoseok begins to disassemble and reassemble it, looking at the different parts, how they work, what goes together, and what doesn’t. He makes a game out of it, gets the other boys to take it apart while he’s not looking, and then he puts it back together. Hesitant at first, but eventually more confident and eager.

 

The others start practicing with it. Not with real bullets, but they draw a small mark on the wall in the living room, and take turns aiming and pulling the trigger. There is no recoil, no pain or loud noise, but it’s a good start for boys who have only ever looked at the killing machines before this.

 

Those exercises become more advanced as well. They create new targets, below furniture, on a piece of paper fastened to Minhyuk’s back, an imaginary spot on a tree in the horizon.

 

It’s an awful lot like a game.

 

But it’s a game they play to prepare themselves for what comes afterwards.

 

Soon, they will be able to break out.

 

Soon, they will join the battle for real.

 

And then they do.

 

Jooheon and Hoseok go out first.

 

They join a raid a couple of villages over, harassing soldiers and attacking their resource caches, and Kihyun is biting his nails for the five days they are gone. Changkyun tries to be reassuring, optimistic, but his words are so false and almost disturbing in their cheerfulness, and in the end he settles for the true comfort of a grounding touch.

 

Minhyuk and Hyungwon are not as openly worried, but when Minhyuk searches for Hyungwon’s hand in the darkness of the night, it is more than just love he reaches for.

 

But then Jooheon and Hoseok return, safe and sound and exhilarated after their first mission, their first success, their first effort to fight back. It has left them yearning for more, prompts the eager encouragements, fuels a new fighting spirit.

 

All of the boys will be ready soon.

 

And then they will leave – for good.

But when the day finally comes, they leave the village without remorse, and without looking back. There is no hint of melancholy, no final waves of nostalgia drawing them back for only a minute, lingering in the shadows of their childhood.

 

They leave, and don’t look back –

 

And the resistance offers them all a new life.

 

Soon, they offered to fix Kihyun’s legs.

 

Kihyun had wrinkled his nose, cast his eyes down in distaste, but Changkyun was the one who objected out loud.

 

“You can’t fix them,” he had said, almost crudely, and Hoseok had kept his arm firmly around Kihyun’s waist, a silent support where Changkyun’s agitation pulled him away from Kihyun’s side. “There is nothing to be done. Don’t give us false hope.”

 

“Changkyun,” Minhyuk had warned, seeing the way Kihyun’s nostrils flared just a little, the little purse of his lips. Changkyun would have seen those subtle signs as well, usually did, but not when he is this upset – angry, even.

 

And Kihyun still doesn’t say anything.

 

“We can’t restore them to their old function, that’s true,” one of the resistance emissaries agreed – impatiently, actually, like he is talking to a child, and maybe that was what they had been to the resistance all along. “But we can do a much better job than what you have now – we can make you fit for duty, son.”

 

Changkyun had huffed, incredulous, but Kihyun had thought about it, long and hard, and two days later, after seeing the other boys run around and try on their new combat equipment, he had gone back and told them to give him what they had.

 

Learning to use the braces was a long and painful process, and despite Changkyun’s initial disapproval, he had swallowed his complaints and helped Kihyun adjust to the procedure as well as he could. The defected nurse taught them both about the painkillers he would take, small, blue pills that would help him cope with the lingering pain in his lower back when the braces pulled on the muscles and gnawed in his skin.

 

He accepted the help gratefully, and slowly, but surely, he learned to walk again – by himself, without Changkyun’s supporting hand, without the crutches, without grimacing.

 

And just like that, a whole new world opened up to Kihyun, and when they all went out in the field, dressed in their practical camouflage uniforms and armed to the chin, Kihyun strode among them, happy just to be there. Happy just to contribute.

 

Since then, they all saw fights up close and personal.

 

Missions became a regularity, and they would fight alongside other rebels, other insurgents, and other hopeful, scorned youths. They became a part of the group, a part of the fight, and firmly picked a side in a war that only escalated with each passing month.

 

That was their lives for a good while. For many missions, many times, many sufferings. They saw a lot, and did a lot.

 

And already then, the polarizations started to emerge, but tensions stayed low while they were working, and they promised each other, they would get through this, they would save Hyunwoo, they would all live to see peace and then live happily ever after in their old age.

 

It seemed like a decent plan, and for a while, it overrode any internal struggles they faced during their time in the battlefield.

 

Then the fateful skirmish happened, and suddenly, their group dissolved as Hyungwon fell to a gunshot wound in his chest and Minhyuk stayed behind, as he promised he would – while the rest ran.

 

This time, they did look back, but the smoke covered anything they would wish to see.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Minhyuk awakes with clarity, and it takes him approximately three seconds to realize what that clarity means.

 

When he opens his eyes, the room is dark, but not completely black – just enough for him to get an overview of his surroundings. There are blurry outlines of big things, small things, a little, pale light emanating from somewhere beneath his feet, and a whining, steady beeping noise. He is lying on a bed, in a strangely uncomfortable position with his arms pushing against his torso and a stiff collar around his neck. A futile attempt to shift into a more pleasant position later, and he realizes why – he is actually restrained, hands tucked in long sleeves pinned to his sides in some sort of disgusting version of self-entrapment. He tries to move his legs, and discovers that his knees are tied together as well, though not as tightly, and at least he can move around a little bit.

 

The muscles in his abdomen groan from lack of use when he tries to sit up without the balancing effect of his arms, but eventually he struggles into an upright position and squints out at the room.

 

Where is he?

 

The last thing he remembers is a burning building – no, smiling faces, his friends, guns – no, no, the woods, approaching winter, speckles of _blue –_

The room is mostly barren, with only a few pieces of machinery providing the odd blinking lights when numbers flash across small screens and the little noise Minhyuk heard before, a padded chair in the corner, and another bed not too far from Minhyuk’s.

 

Another bed.

 

Another figure.

 

It’s a figure Minhyuk knows – it’s dark, his mind is still a bit befuddled, but he would never let himself doubt the familiar slope of the nose, the sharp jaw and pursed lips beneath shaggy, dark hair.

 

“Hyungwon!” He hisses instinctively. But Hyungwon doesn’t move, doesn’t react at all.

 

Sleeping still?

 

He is restrained, just like Minhyuk, in a weird white piece of clothing, stretched out limply on a bed with metal posts and pristine sheets, glowing an eerie, white shade even through the darkness.

 

It looks strangely sterile and foreign, like something frozen in time while he is the only one waking up – waking up to move on, while the rest of the world stands still.

 

Except for that awful beeping noise.

 

He tries to think back. What happened to them – why are they here? How did they get here? Where are their friends?

 

Surely it must have been _them._ The regime’s scum, black soldiers with their masks and orders and blind obedience, the bullies that remain the source of everything bad in Minhyuk’s life. Surely they must be behind this as well, whatever _this_ is.

 

Otherwise, Minhyuk would remember something. They wouldn’t be restrained. It doesn’t feel like he’s hurt, aside from a general wobbly feeling and unease, so it’s probably not a regular hospital.

 

And where are the rest of his friends? Hyunwoo, Hoseok, Kihyun, Jooheon and Changkyun?

 

He tries to find a concrete image, a solid memory of the last time he saw any of them. He remembers Hyungwon’s face, bruised and dejected, hiding away in dark corners and cowering before the shadows of bigger men – but never surrendering, never giving up what little pride he had left. Persevering. Fighting.

 

He remembers Kihyun and Changkyun, huddling together on the couch in the orphanage at odd hours to find solace in each other, when Changkyun’s tear tracks became too prominent or Kihyun’s legs too tired. When they closed off the rest of the world to see only each other.

 

He remembers Jooheon, smiling as he comes back from a trip to who knows where, and no one asks what he’s been up to, because they all know that he comes back with a boosted defiance, renewed need for justice. And above all a fuelled desire to fight for a better world.

 

He remembers Hoseok, watching over them all with loving, but sad eyes. Dedicating his life to look after the younger boys despite his own scars, turning his own despair into a determined protectiveness that Minhyuk always admired.

 

And he remembers Hyunwoo. How Hyunwoo, the gentlest, warmest of them all still had to bend the knee to the malice inherent in human behaviour. How even Hyunwoo let himself fall to be a part of the game.

 

Where are they now?

 

Are they in the not-quite hospital as well? In other rooms?

 

Or is it just him and Hyungwon?

 

He won’t receive any answers just sitting around like this, and with great effort, he pushes his legs off the bed and drops to the floor with an undignified thump. His knees buckle and his chest heaves from even that small an exertion, his mouth feeling like dry paper and sharp edges.

 

He feels ridiculously weak, a new-born baby lamb rather than grown man. It’s frustrating, and the lack of mobility in his arms do not help. His balance is all wobbly, and when he tries to make his way over to Hyungwon’s bed, he shakes and stumbles and loses his equilibrium from the smallest movements.

 

The gap between the beds is hardly six feet wide, but making it across becomes a fight on par with any challenge Minhyuk has ever faced. Minutes, if not hours later, he collapses half over the bed, draping his torso over Hyungwon’s chest.

 

He takes a moment to catch his breath before calling out to Hyungwon, worried that he didn’t even react when most of Minhyuk’s weight fell over him.

 

But Hyungwon still remains unresponsive.

 

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk tries again, louder this time, and wiggles a little on the bed, enough to wake up any sleeping child, but Hyungwon doesn’t move an inch. Panic starts to well in Minhyuk’s chest – why isn’t he waking up? Hyungwon has always been a heavy sleeper, but not like this – he wakes up and swats Minhyuk away, groans in annoyance and tells him to bugger off, but never completely comatose like this.

 

What have they done to him?

 

The building fright shoots a wave of adrenaline through Minhyuk’s spine, and he straightens again, still shaky, but at least steadier than before, and starts kicking the bed frame.

 

“Hyungwon! Hyungwon, wake up!” He cries, rattling the metal post and the machinery set up next to it – the beeping sound in the background is picking up, and with it, Minhyuk’s heartbeat. “Hyungwon! Hyungwon, get up, come on, Hyungwon! This isn’t funny!”

 

Nothing. No reaction whatsoever, not even a small twitch.

 

Minhyuk lets out a frustrated groan and abandons Hyungwon’s bed in favour of tearing at his bindings. Why won’t Hyungwon wake up? Why are they tied up like this?

 

Where are the others?!

 

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk cries again as he twists his shoulders and tries to shift his arms inside the strange shirt. “Hyungwon! Wake the fuck up, you idiot, wake up! Hoseok! Jooheon! Kihyun, Changkyun – someone, get us out of here! Hyungwon!”

 

His struggles doesn’t do anything besides tiring him out, and his hands are shaky and sweaty where they twist through the rough fabric. If anything, he feels more claustrophobic now, with how the air diminishes through his cries, the temperature increases, the slow realization that they are not somewhere safe –

 

Behind him, a door opens with a bang, but Minhyuk is too busy struggling and kicking Hyungwon’s bed to fully process the new entrance. At least, until arms settle on his shoulders in harsh grips, pulling him backwards and away from the fragile equipment – Hyungwon’s bed.

 

“No! Let me go, let me – “ he starts, struggling against the foreign hands and trying to twist his head to look at the intruders. But his neck is too stiff, the room is too dark and the movements around him too rapid. He can’t see them, only the vague blur of their white scrubs, jackets – angry eyes boring into his.

 

They don’t feel like they are going to help him.

 

“Calm down!” One of them shouts into his ear, sending him reeling for a second, but the hands on his shoulders refuse to let him drop. “Stay still!”

 

“No! Hyungwon – “ he snarls and kicks a foot behind him, feeling only a miniscule spark of pleasure when he feels the impact and hears a grunt afterwards. “Let me go! Stop hurting us, psychos – “

 

Then his air supply is cut off as one of the hands moves, followed by a sharp pain in his throat as an arm is thrust under his chin. They are stronger than him, more awake, less confused – not to mention, the advantage of numbers. He doesn’t stand a chance, and he doesn’t want to surrender – but his body is giving in to the lack of oxygen, too quickly, and he sags in their grip, unwilling, but unable to keep himself upright.

 

“Are you going to hurt us?” He croaks out, weak and quiet like a whisper, feeling the fight drain out of him with every passing second.

 

The question is barely out before he feels a sharp, piercing sensation in his neck, _pain,_ and his head fogs right up, feels heavy, falls as even what little vision he has blurs out.

 

If he gets an answer, he doesn’t hear it before he’s gone again.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Jooheon brings them information about Minhyuk and Hyungwon’s whereabouts without preamble, suddenly and unexpected one day just like any other.

 

He tells them that they are holding them in a hospital – but a closed off ward, with tight security and confidential information. It’s a fairly large hospital, not too far away from their current location, but certainly heavily guarded. As much as they’d like to, they cannot wade in there and steal them out as carelessly as they want.

 

And in any case, who knows what sort of state they will be in – are they even fit to be moved?

 

Hoseok, practical as always, asks that question, and Jooheon can only shrug in response.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“But they are both alive? Alive and unhurt?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Why are they keeping them in there?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“What are they doing to them?”

 

“I don’t know!”

 

“Then what do you know?”

 

“Nothing more than what I’ve told you!” Jooheon hisses, and holds back the urge to scream at Hoseok for his incessant questions. He knows he is just concerned, and eager, after finally receiving intel on the friends he thought he lost.

 

But he shouldn’t accuse Jooheon for what he doesn’t know – at least he knows more than them, holed up in the school and isolated in their own work progress.

 

“Then what can we do?” Changkyun frowns, strangely calm where Hoseok is antsy, and Jooheon finds it easier to turn and talk to him instead.

 

“As of right now, nothing much,” he says, wincing at the disappointed looks he receives. “It’s not quite a fortress, but not that far from it. We cannot get them out without storming the entire complex, and as of right now, we are simply not strong enough for that.”

 

“So we just leave them in there?” Kihyun asks with a slight shudder, leaning on his crutches today rather than using his braces. “Jooheon, what if… They could be doing all kinds of terrible stuff to them in there!”

 

They are doing all kinds of terrible stuff to them, Jooheon knows. He isn’t too sure about the details, they were all fuzzy and unconfirmed, but there are some definite implications that drugs are involved. Drugs, testing – he doesn’t want to think of what else. He doesn’t want to fantasize and spin stories building on what little information he has, because one scenario is always more nightmarish than the first.

 

He can’t say that to the other boys – they wouldn’t accept anything besides action if they knew even half of what he heard from their chameleons. Not to mention the drugging aspect – it might hit too close to home now, particularly with Changkyun’s sensitive mood.

 

But they are all still unnerved by his lack of information, and as much as he would love to answer all of their questions, Jooheon doesn’t want to make matters worse than they are when nothing can be done. He’ll work from his end, find a solution, gather more information, and let them know more when he feels like they can handle what he gives them.

 

That isn’t now.

 

“I know it’s horrible, but we have no choice,” he says instead, and the lamenting note comes easy, because he does regret his words – it’s just that he knows there is nothing else to do. “We’ll try and figure something out. I’ll contact some more people, check around – maybe there are more options available than we know of right now.”

 

That part, at least, is not a lie.

 

But it doesn’t pacify the other boys at all.

 

Hoseok lets out a frustrated groan and drags his hands across his face before pacing off towards the other end of the hall. Kihyun slumps down in a chair, head down, and Changkyun immediately steps behind him to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

Jooheon just stands there, lost and dismayed.

 

It’s not his fault.

 

It really isn’t.

 

But when he walks back out that door, he can’t help but feel the guilt following him like a shadow.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Kihyun staggers into a tree and allows himself to fall down by its base for a short minute of rest.

 

He’s far away. He can afford it now.

 

And a good thing too, because his medication is wearing off, and the pain in his lower back and down his legs is starting to make itself known, first as a dull ache, then progressing to jolts of electricity tearing down at his muscles with every step. It’s not that bad yet, but he knows it will be, by the end of the night. It doesn’t help that his braces are digging into the soft flesh of his thighs uncomfortably, clenching and pulling as his skin becomes clammier from the temperature as well as the increased pain.

 

It’s going to get worse.

 

And Hoseok and Changkyun will worry.

 

He wishes they wouldn’t, because he doesn’t need them to worry anymore – they don’t have to watch over him, they have more than enough to think about already. He’s not a burden anymore.

 

But old habits die hard, and Kihyun needs to show them – needs to _prove_ that he can look after himself, that he can make contributions to their cause just like anyone else.  Needs to demonstrate that they can stop glancing back at him to make sure he’s still standing up, that they don’t have to make excuses for him, don’t have to protect him.

 

They don’t have to do any of that anymore, but if he just tells them, they won’t believe him. They have to see it for themselves.

 

And maybe that means avoiding any display of weakness – anything that will make them remember the broken, scared little boy he used to be. The boy that couldn’t do anything, the boy that was a liability.

 

Kihyun is not that boy anymore.

 

He is a grown man now, still small and young, but not weak – he can be independent, he can be an asset, he can pull his own weight.

 

He needs to do this.

 

It was a task entrusted to him, and he will do his damnedest if he doesn’t complete it thoroughly.

 

Besides, if he doesn’t – then all of their efforts are useless, the resistance will suffer, other people will suffer on behalf of the resistance – a lot hinges on Kihyun’s shoulders now, and the feeling is both gratifying and terrible.

 

He manages by telling himself that only one more day, one more job, one more walk – then he can rest. He’ll be fine, and he will have done well. Ignoring the job he will have to do the next day, he tries to focus on the present, if nothing else, then for the sake of his sanity.

 

He pulls out his gun – not warm anymore, not smelling like powder either. It’s clean and nice, well-kept, peak condition. Fully functional, of course. No minor flaws or setbacks. He can’t afford that, and when he has someone as brilliant as Hoseok by his side, he doesn’t need to worry about maintenance.

 

Beyond cleaning off grime and blood, that is.

 

He knows the gun is a clue, and Hoseok suspects so much. But he hasn’t asked, and at least Hoseok hasn’t seen his knife – he sure hopes Changkyun hasn’t. He knows they are thinking, but the visual representation would haunt them, make their frowns so much deeper.

 

That, Kihyun does not want.

 

He flips open the chamber of the gun. Only one bullet left now, but he is sure Will can provide him with more ammunition before his next job. He is good like that – and he has taken a liking to Kihyun, making him easier to goad into those smaller benefits.

 

And Kihyun has grown to appreciate the man for his worth as well.

 

He wonders if the others would go along with Will – if they would have the patience to deal with him, the pragmatism required to turn his awful requests into something manageable.

 

Probably not.

 

Changkyun and Hoseok are too good, too pure.

 

Kihyun isn’t – and that is why he needs to be the one doing this.

 

He needs to do it so they don’t have to.

 

He reminds himself of that when he staggers upright and feels the pain wash over his body once again, the smell of copper on his hand when it flails too close to his nose in an effort to regain his balance.

 

It’s okay.

 

He’s doing it for them.

 

He’s doing it for them.

 

They’re okay.

 

They’re good.

 

Kihyun can live with everything else.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hyunwoo knows he is terribly useless to his friends as he is right now, restrained and put in isolation within a cold cell. Despite his previous vow to himself that he would right his wrongs and protect the remaining, precious few joys he had in life, he isn’t doing a great job at it right now.

 

They are out there.

 

Hoseok, Jooheon, Kihyun, Changkyun, Hyungwon and Minhyuk.

 

They’re out there, looking out for each other, Hyunwoo hopes, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and that ignorance gnaws a hole in his lungs, growing steadily every passing day because this might be the morning – this might be the morning that throws them into oblivion and suffocates their last breath.

 

All while Hyunwoo is stuck in his cell.

 

It’s unmeasurably frustrating, and he wishes he could fight his way out of it. Wishes he could break down the door, the bars, the little window in the top left corner he can just touch with his left pinkie when he stands on his tip toes.

 

He can’t fight his way out.

 

He doesn’t have a way with words, isn’t charming enough to trick the guards into a false sense of security for a while until he smashes their faces against the metal wall.

 

He isn’t a mastermind, cunning and confident enough to create and execute a shrewd plan to get out without a fuss.

 

Nothing of that.

 

He knows he will have to wait. And while he waits, Hyunwoo pushes his body to its limits, does more press-ups, crunches, jumps and rhythmic routines than he has ever done before, in order to tone his muscles to perfection, polish the avenger in him. He has always been strong, stronger than most, and while he has never used that strength in an aggressive manner before, he knows he needs to be ready for that when he gets out.

 

He needs to use his time wisely.

 

He is ready.

 

The sentence was indefinite – murmured whispers of twenty years or eight or fifty mean nothing, because the final conclusion was postponed until after the resistance has been squashed. Any potential dangers to society must be kept under lock and key until the government has regained control, and then the judges will make a new evaluation. Will assess his crime in times of peace, quiet, and justice.

 

Hyunwoo knows that is just bullshit – they will keep him here as long as they please, and calm will never come.

 

But that’s fine.

 

He knows he will get out soon.

 

Even though he might not have any particular talents that can help him break out of jail, he knows people who does have peculiar skills and even better connections.

 

When they first imprisoned him, it wasn’t in the dingy, awkward cell in the village. Instead, they put him away in a bigger city, nearer the capital, and Hyunwoo thought for sure, he had lost. He would never see his friends again.

 

Now he knows better. Now he knows that he will get a second chance, and he will not screw up this time. It doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter what he needs to do – he will do it to keep his friends safe.

 

A few months ago, one of the guards slipped a small, folded note through the little crack at the bottom of the door.

 

Hyunwoo hadn’t been this determined back then. He had been angry, desperate, and full of regret, but he didn’t know where to go from there. He had no goals or ambitions anymore, nothing to drive him forward. He thought he was lost forever.

 

Then he unfolded the note to see brief, but familiar writing –

 

_Hyunwoo-hyung. We know where you are. We are watching you. We will help you._

_-_ _LJH_

And ever since, Hyunwoo has known.

 

He has known that he will get his chance to go back out there and restore just a little bit of good in this world.

 

That’s all he can do, but it will have to suffice – he will _make it_ suffice.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

If he was an animal, he would definitely be a rabbit.  Rabbits are great. They eat a lot and they jump around and they cuddle. Everything is wonderful.

 

And he doesn’t have to see any of the scary people. Rabbits don’t have to see people. They just run away and hide.

 

He would be pretty good at hiding.

 

Maybe if he hid in his little rabbit hole, with his rabbit sisters and brothers and rabbit friends, he could even decorate it just like he wanted to. Lots of colors and fun, with music playing in the evenings and a warm little nest to fall into towards the night. He would be warm and relaxed and content. Even dry, hopefully, and he could sleep through the winter down there. Rabbits don’t fancy the cold that much, despite their soft fur. They like snuggly warmth so much more. Snuggly warmth and food and sleep and company.

 

That’s good.

 

He would love to sleep in a big, warm, cuddly lump of rabbit brothers and sisters. It sounds like the best thing ever. And they would pass a carrot in-between them and enjoy it with all the solidarity that furry creatures can muster.

 

Rabbits don’t talk much, but that’s okay. They would talk when they needed to.

 

And they wouldn’t really need to talk, so everything turns out alright in the end.

 

It’s a shame that some rabbits are hunted, though. Filthy, two-legged giants hurt rabbits, and take them away as they die, never to be seen again. They don’t care about the rabbits. They are dangerous.

 

That’s why rabbits need to hide.

 

There are so many things that can hurt rabbits. Two-legged giants, four-legged teeth-creatures, the long, spineless predators, even winged creatures from the sky sometimes. It’s a dangerous world out there for rabbits.

 

That’s why rabbits need to hide and seek comfort from each other. Then they can stay safe and happy, in their rabbit holes, with their rabbit brothers and sisters. And their carrots.

 

That sounds like a good life.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“Kihyun?” Hoseok asks again as he rounds the doorframe and catches Kihyun standing over the old sink, running the water and scrubbing his hand with an old cloth. Kihyun doesn’t look up at Hoseok, but keeps dragging the old fabric across his palm in a frenzy, roughly and with far more force than necessary.

 

The old grey cloth, Hoseok notices with a start, is stained red.

 

“Get it off, get it off, get it off….” It’s mumbled, frantic, and so unlike Kihyun’s usual composure and quietude that it makes Hoseok shiver as he steps closer. He sees Kihyun’s hands, pale and trembling with specks of red barely visible through the rapid movement. Kihyun still doesn’t appear to notice him, but keeps repeating his mantra while tearing at his hands with the rough fabric.

 

“Get it off, get it off, get it off – “

 

“Kihyun!” Hoseok closes the distance and grips Kihyun’s hands with his own. Terrified eyes meet his, and Kihyun stills for a second. His hands are icy, wet, and Hoseok looks down at them.

 

“It’s not coming off,” Kihyun says then, softly, with a shaken voice and Hoseok forces himself not to raise his eyes to take in the frightened expression. “It’s not coming off. Hyung, it’s not coming off, the blood – “

 

“Of course it’s not coming off, Kihyun,” Hoseok mutters with a heavy sigh. “Look at this, you’ve scrubbed yourself raw – that’s _your_ blood, Kihyun. You’re bleeding.”

 

“My…” Kihyun turns his hands over in Hoseok’s grip, examines them as if for the first time. It breaks Hoseok’s heart a little. “Oh. That’s…. Oh.”

 

“Kihyunnie…”

 

Hoseok shakes his head with a loud exhale, a frustrated sound, but curses himself when he sees Kihyun flinch. He’s not angry with Kihyun – maybe, just a little bit, for allowing himself to be used like this, for allowing them to reduce him to a _tool_ when it’s far from his true nature. A good person – damaged, tortured and scared, like the rest of them, but ultimately falling back on a compassionate, gentle affection for the people he called family. A person Kihyun once was, still ought to be, if only he wasn’t marred by the black scars these people have painted across his mind.

 

But that’s only half true – Kihyun is still doing this for their family, Hoseok knows. He sees how it’s tearing him apart, but Kihyun perseveres, because of _them._

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” he says, forcing his voice down to a gentle and careful tone despite the frustration prickling in his chest. “You can – no one is forcing you to go out there and…” He stops for a second, but Kihyun’s eyes flicker to the side, and he catches himself again. “You don’t have to keep doing these _things,_ Kihyunnie. Not when it’s hurting you.”

 

“I’m fine,” Kihyun mutters, but he’s not looking up again, and his hands are trembling in Hoseok’s larger, warmer grip. “I’m just – I’m tired, it’s okay, I’ll sleep it off – “

 

“You are not fine, Kihyun,” Hoseok grits out, and it’s getting harder to keep his anger at bay. Kihyun doesn’t deserve his rage, not now, anyway. Maybe some day, at some point, when Hoseok is less confused and Kihyun’s mind less jumbled, they could talk it out in a rational, adult way.

 

But if they had those sort of luxuries, they would never be in this situation in the first place, Hoseok recalls bitterly.

 

He is not sure where to direct his anger. At the soldiers? Sure, always, forever, but that hate is a constant presence in his mind, has been for years. But these surges of frustration are something more.

 

The resistance?

 

Yes, he is a little bit angry with them as well. Their orders have done this to Kihyun, excusing them as necessities and the contribution to something good.

 

But Kihyun’s lingering tears and red, trembling hands look like anything but good to Hoseok.

 

He knows that soldiers get blood on their hands, even fairy tale knights have to dirty their swords in order to slay the dragon and get the princess.

 

But it shouldn’t have to be his friend.

 

It shouldn’t have to be _Kihyun._

Kihyun is not a fighter.

 

None of them are –

 

“Don’t tell Changkyun,” Kihyun says suddenly, and for a whole second, he stops shivering and a curtain of resolve falls over him like a visible curtain.

 

Hoseok frowns and tighten his grip on Kihyun’s hands.

 

“I shouldn’t need to tell Changkyun anything,” he says briskly. “I hope you’re not hiding anything from him.”

 

He is hiding things from Changkyun. Hoseok is not dumb enough to think that Kihyun whispers all his horrors into Changkyun’s ears at night, isn’t naïve enough to think that Kihyun will seek help every time he struggles with something. That is what Changkyun would have wanted, but Kihyun is holding back, trying to be strong.

 

Hoseok isn’t falling for it, and neither is Changkyun.

 

But none of them have been able to confront him about it.

 

When they try, he becomes defensive, annoyed, and there is no discussing things with Kihyun when he becomes this obstinate. Although usually easy-going, Kihyun can be stubborn to a fault, and the conflict is as uncomfortable as it is fruitless.

 

Still.

 

Still, Hoseok can’t help but push the issue whenever it comes up – usually when Kihyun is vulnerable, like now. 

 

“Can you promise me – “ the little tremble is back in Kihyun’s voice, and that little hint of fear sends anger shooting through Hoseok’s chest once more. “Can you please promise me not to tell Changkyun about this. Just say you saw me wash up. It’s not lying.”

 

“No, it’s manipulation of the truth,” Hoseok huffs. “I should just conveniently leave out the part where you’re shaking like a leaf, that haunted look in your eyes, and that – that you’re hurting yourself because you don’t understand when you’re home and safe?”

 

“This isn’t home!” Kihyun snarls, but then reels back in horror, dragging Hoseok’s hands with him when he backs up against the sink. And suddenly, he is back to the terrified, scarred little boy Hoseok knows so well. “I’m sorry, hyung, I don’t – I didn’t mean to be like that. But there’s nothing you could do, and he – worrying would just make him unhappier.”

 

“He’s already worrying and unhappy,” Hoseok says quietly. He thinks about Changkyun’s quiet admissions when it’s just the two of them, of the distressed looks he sends after Kihyun when he thinks he isn’t looking, and the frustration he sometimes hears in the form of loud roars across the school.

 

It’s a different sort of worry compared to the times after the church fire. It’s less sad, more angry, but every bit as helpless.

 

If Kihyun could see that – see that what he is doing isn’t helping, but only making matters _worse._

Hoseok puts a hand on Kihyun’s cheek as he continues. It feels clammy and feverish. “If you would talk to him, let him know what’s going on, I think – honestly, it would probably help you both. Or if you won’t talk to him, talk to me. This cannot continue, Kihyun.”

 

And Kihyun smiles.

 

So sadly, so broken, that Hoseok almost wishes he had ignored the strange noises and left Kihyun alone.

 

“It has to, hyung.  And there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

 

The statement has a sound of finality to it, a punctuation to end the discussion before it goes too far. Hoseok doesn’t want to know what too far means, and he doesn’t know how to counter this resignation.

 

Instead, he just shakes his head and gathers Kihyun in his arms, feeling the frailty of the shoulders, the weariness in his limbs and the lingering air of dread Kihyun carries around him like a protective cloak.

 

Kihyun hasn’t grown in years, but Hoseok still thinks he feels different.

 

“At least look after yourself if you won’t let us.” He says, trying to ignore the heavy weight dropping in his stomach. “And remember that we love you. We don’t want to see you hurt.”

 

It’s too late for that, but it bears repeating.

 

And judging from the little whimper and the way Kihyun’s arms tighten around Hoseok’s waist, it doesn’t seem like Kihyun is unappreciative of the reminder.

 

If it’s all Hoseok can do, he will do it a hundred times over.

 

And he wonders, as so often before, what his brother would do in this situation.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The weather is bad, these days.

 

Rainy, grey, wet and cold and everything Jooheon hates about Mother Nature and all her children. Thank you, summers spent huddling for heat in a freezing, broken down orphanage.

 

And yet he finds himself under the darkening clouds, watching the storm gathering in the distance from a small terrace connected to a dingy apartment the resistance uses as a safe house. The area isn’t particularly nice, but it’s central, just on the outskirts of the capital, and the apartment complex is quiet enough to not attract attention when various people stream in and out of the little room on the fifth floor.

 

Jooheon quite likes it here – not for the apartment itself, necessarily, it’s furnished sparsely and rarely cleaned as it should be, instead hiding remnants of all sorts of things, ranging from unfinished meals to more unpleasant leftovers, like bullets or bloodstained bandages.

 

But he likes the quietude, the small isolation of the place. And when it’s full of people, he likes that too. The people, despite what they have done and despite what they have experienced, are all friendly and good to him. They share his victories and his struggles and are always willing to provide a word of encouragement in troubled times. And at other times, they let him be.

 

There is a solidarity in the safe house, one which refreshes him and strengthens his resolve. A solidarity based on the same fight –

 

One which he hasn’t felt since the days in the shed with his adopted brothers, back in the village.

 

Jooheon would give his friends the world - they deserve that, every one of them.  
  
But their happiness comes with the peace and settlement of the country. Once they have restored justice to their people, his friends can be free and unburdened, free to enjoy their life to the fullest.  
  
Why can't they see that?

 

No one ever said peace came easily, and yet they’re moaning about justice and innocents and suffering and methods. As if they have a way to win this war without arranging difficult priorities – they cannot afford to sit on their high horse and point out faults when there are no better solutions around.

 

Jooheon has to think about strategies and intelligence. His job is to gather and manage information resources, not to dictate skirmish plans, but his friends approach him as if his influence could change the turn of the battle.

 

He can’t.

 

But he has chosen to defer to those who can.

 

“Don’t think so loudly, the troopers might hear you,” someone whispers in hear so suddenly that Jooheon has to grip the rail to keep himself from falling over, but Gunhee just laughs and pats Jooheon’s back without remorse. He is smiling, like always – regardless of the adversaries they face, Gunhee always smiles.

 

It’s one of the things that drew Jooheon to him, to begin with.

 

That, and the fact that he and Gunhee worked together on missions long before the rest of his friends were accepted by the resistance. They fit together, float on the same wavelength, similar yet different enough to complement each other in their slight diversity.

 

Where Gunhee is loud and boisterous, Jooheon is quiet and careful – where Jooheon is calculated and strict, Gunhee has an eye for improvisation and an unrivalled ability to adapt to unexpected situations.

 

But they are both clever, sneaky and intelligent. They both infiltrate and trick like a second nature, and they are both able to make the leap between professional and easy-going in the blink of an eye.

 

They go well together, and Jooheon sees Gunhee as more than a mere acquaintance – if there was ever a time to use the expression brothers in arms within a rebellion, it was with Gunhee.

 

“You don’t have to scamper around like that,” Jooheon frowns and gives Gunhee a little shove. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I’m too young for that, you know. I have a life to live.”

 

“It’s not my fault you have the nerve of a schizophrenic street cat,” Gunhee shrugs, smiling again. “Maybe if you grew a spine, you’d have less of these frights.”

 

It’s just casual banter, back and forth, and it makes Jooheon relax slightly.

 

But he knows Gunhee didn’t just come out here to talk shit.

 

“I have more of a spine than you,” he retorts with a huff, dragging the tease out for as long as possible.

 

“Definitely not true,” Gunhee pats his shoulder, almost patronizingly. It’s funny, because Jooheon has at least an inch on him and is by far the least threatening looking between the two of them, but he also has an attitude that he likes to maintain by pulling Jooheon down. “Who carries the revolver? A clue: not you.”

 

“Congratulations on your eight bullets.”

 

“At least I get to fire bullets.” He says it jokingly, because they both know that shouldn’t be an honour, but it kind of is. It’s not something either of them would have been proud of in times of peace, and Gunhee isn’t proud of his up-close assaults for their violent nature – but he is pleased with himself for his contributions to the cause, and that is something Jooheon can sympathize with.

 

He knows the feeling intimately.

 

Focusing on the necessity, the bright side rather than the grotesque.

 

“But enough of that – what are you thinking about?” Gunhee pokes his shoulder, frowning a little.

 

Gunhee is touchy, but Jooheon is used to it. It reminds him of someone else who used to be touchy with him.

 

“I’m thinking about them,” he says, quietly, without humour, and Gunhee nods.

 

“Back at the school?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Gunhee pauses, leans on the railing next to Jooheon. For a moment or two, they stay quiet and just stare at the wind rippling trees in the distance. They will have to go in soon, but no rush. They have time.

 

“I’m not sure if they’re adapting well,” Jooheon offers, eventually. “They seem tense, and…  Wary. Not like us, angry with the oppressors, but apprehensive about what they’re doing.”

 

“Well, they’re doing an important job,” Gunhee shrugs. “Any updates on their progress, by the way?”

 

“They still don’t have a time frame, but Hoseok-hyung is optimistic.” Optimistic, but stressed, the last time Jooheon spoke to them. He said they would be done soon, but he had almost cried as he made the promise.

 

And either way, his machine is useless if Kihyun can’t find the resources soon.

 

And Jooheon doesn’t have any update on _that_ progress.

 

“Right,” Gunhee nods, and pokes his shoulder again. “That’s good. And they’re still doing it manually until then?”

 

“Yeah, but they’ve almost run out of supplies. Changkyun says he’ll make the trek soon.”

 

“Okay, good. Sounds like they’re doing okay, then?”

 

“Yeah, they are….” Jooheon frowns. “But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

 

Gunhee studies him for a second, calculatingly. “Then what?”

 

“I don’t think their hearts are in what they’re doing,” Jooheon winces as he says it, because it sounds like an accusation of treason. That’s not what he means, at all – he isn’t worried that they’ll turn around on him, on the cause. But maybe they are holding back, maybe they are not convinced by the resistance.

 

He doesn’t want to face that scenario.

 

Next to him, Gunhee laughs again, brightly, and unconcerned. Jooheon envies his ability to take things in stride, to turn everything into something positive or useful.

 

Then again, he thinks, Gunhee is all alone.

 

Maybe it is easy to see the bright sides after coming only darkness.

 

“Their opinions are theirs alone,” Gunhee says with a much too light tone. “You shouldn’t worry about that, there’s nothing you can do. You’ve got to trust them, Jooheon.”

 

“I do trust them,” Jooheon sighs. “I just think that they’re… Missing something.”

 

“Then try and give that ‘something’ to them,” Gunhee pats his back kindly, but not softly. “Think about it.”

 

“What do you think I’m doing?”

 

“Well think faster.”

 

“Gunhee – “

 

“And come back inside, you freak. I’m making noodles.”

 

Jooheon is just about to retort something concerning Gunhee’s intelligence levels, but he’s already left alone on the terrace.

 

He doesn’t know what he could give his friends that could convince them. He doesn’t know what it is they don’t understand, why they are hesitating.

 

He is fumbling in the dark, and it’s far more frustrating than he thought it would be.

 

He expected the war to be difficult, fearsome, and challenging.

 

But not like this.

 

That was the one thing, he thought… The one thing he could count on, was that his friends would always share his fight and stay with him until the end.

 

It’s a distressing trail of thought, and Jooheon decides to abandon it as soon as he feels the first traces of rain in the air, instead going back inside to choke on Gunhee’s noodles.

 

Something.

 

He needs to find _something._

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

When he rolls around on the clouds, Minhyuk is there as well.

 

Minhyuk is smiling and laughing and dancing, but Hyungwon can’t hear a sound. And somehow, he is okay with that. He is happy just to watch Minhyuk come around, disappear, and reappear around the cotton clouds that brush silky soft against Hyungwon’s back as well, careful, friendly, encouraging.

 

This is peace, Hyungwon thinks.

 

He is comfortable, happy, and so is Minhyuk. This is how things should be.

 

But isn’t it a little bit empty?

 

Clouds and Minhyuk – is that all he needs?

 

Yes… Yes, it should be. He can’t think of anything else he would want. No one else, nothing else.

 

He tries to ask Minhyuk about it, the next time he pops up from a smiling cloud, but when he opens his mouth, the only thing that comes out is a bubble. Blue, bright, glowing and slowly floating away.

 

Hyungwon frowns, opens his mouth to say something again. But nothing comes out, except another bubble.

 

He glances over at Minhyuk, and Minhyuk is laughing – again. Then he says something, but Hyungwon still can’t hear him. There are no bubbles coming out of Minhyuk’s mouth, and Minhyuk doesn’t appear to notice that Hyungwon can’t hear him.

 

Strange.

 

How does he talk to Minhyuk, then?

 

He tries to reach out, to touch him, maybe he can reach him then – but Minhyuk just evaporates like the clouds when Hyungwon touches him.

 

Strange.

 

And then he reappears a bit further away, smirking and pointing at Hyungwon, lips moving as if he’s cracking a hilarious joke. He probably is – but Hyungwon wants to hear the joke too. He wants to touch Minhyuk and tell him about the strange bubbles coming out of his mouth.

 

He tries to move again, closer to Minhyuk, and then it’s the clouds who refuses to cooperate. They giggle, trip him up, and Hyungwon falls flat on his face, down into the soft, soft pillow of the clouds. There is a distinct shape to the clouds, even though they are infinitely soft, and Hyungwon starts rolling again, down towards Minhyuk.

 

And when he finally stops rolling, he isn’t dizzy or disoriented.

 

He looks up at Minhyuk standing just above him with a huge smile on his face.

 

“Hello, Hyungwon,” Minhyuk says.

 

Hyungwon closes his eyes.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Changkyun has learned to see and accept a lot of things, even though he wants to do something about them.

 

He has learned to ignore his instincts, even when his heart cries.

 

And he knows it is going to be one of those days today – sees it the minute he walks through the door.

 

Kihyun is crouched in the corner when Changkyun gets back home, watching Hoseok pace around the machinery without much interest.

 

Changkyun doesn’t say anything, but he takes in the slight tremble in Kihyun’s arms where they embrace his knees, the stiff purse of his lips and tense shoulders. He holds back a sigh and follows Kihyun’s eyes to glance over at Hoseok.

 

He appears frustrated, fiddling with the odd cable here and another bolt over there, before swearing softly and continuing his inspection. When he notices Changkyun, he raises his arm in a brisk greeting, but doesn’t say anything else. Which is unusual in itself, because Hoseok is always concerned, and always has a thousand questions to ask before assuring himself that Changyun is okay today as well.

 

But not right now.

 

Changkyun glances down at Kihyun again, and when their eyes meet, Kihyun gives a slight shrug, wincing only a little.

 

“Do you need help taking off your braces?” Changkyun asks, almost futilely, because he is almost sure Kihyun will refuse. He used to be so good at accepting help, but not anymore. Not when he has the option of taking care of himself – more or less, anyway, and not to a satisfactory degree, according to Changkyun.

 

If he did, he would have removed the braces and found his crutches again already.

 

Yet here he is, watching Hoseok sputter his frustrations to an oversized, lumpy piece of metal, suffering through the display silently. His discomfort is plain for the world to see, and it wouldn’t be hard to solve.

 

And yet, as expected, Kihyun shakes his head with a small attempt at a reassuring smile. It looks a little bit like a grimace, but at least he’s trying.

 

Maybe this has contributed to Hoseok’s frustration, Changkyun thinks.

 

“The meds, then?”

 

Kihyun at least considers this before shaking his head once more. “Reached today’s limit,” he explains softly, and if nothing else, that is an excuse Changkyun can accept.

 

Without any immediate requests for help to keep himself occupied, Changkyun slides down next to Kihyun and pulls off his sweater. Wordlessly, he rolls it together and shoves it gently between Kihyun’s lower back and the wall.

 

It’s not much, but it will do.

 

Kihyun doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hand finds Changkyun’s as he laces their fingers together.

 

Hoseok is swearing when Changkyun puts his head on Kihyun’s shoulder and closes his eyes in a pitiful attempt at blocking out the world.

 

He breathes just a little bit easier when he feels the weight of Kihyun’s head settling over his own.

 

Hoseok’s curses stop almost immediately.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The sack is heavy, and dragging it across the floor puts a strain on Kihyun’s back that he’s going to feel for days, but he’s almost done now, his job is almost complete.

 

It’s a little bit messier than usual, but the nature of the situation required him to improvise, choose a different strategy than usual. It wasn’t ideal, and he had to stop on his way back to throw up behind an abandoned garage, but it’s over now – almost. So close, close enough for him to ignore his discomfort and just push through.

 

Only a little while longer, and then he can rest.

 

The men he passes on his way in to the back room are all dressed in black, but not like the soldiers that harass the free people of the country. These men are vagabonds, odd pieces of dark clothing serving a function besides uniformity – survival. Practicalities. The scarves over their mouths protects their identity and their breath, the heavy parkas a useful tool for concealing weaponry and other helpful tools they might suddenly need.

 

Next to them, Kihyun feels small and helpless.

 

He has already discarded his own aides, stashed them away in a secret spot in order to appear diplomatic, because he has learned from his mistakes in the past. Their absence brushes over him, leaving him naked and vulnerable, even though he knows he isn’t.

 

He is doing the dirty jobs, and he is capable of much more than his unassuming appearance indicates.

 

They respect that, if nothing else.

 

And it pleases Kihyun, how these big, dark men move out of his way when he trudges in, when they slink back without a word, just letting him proceed without hassle. They know him by now, and the pink splash of colour in their dark hideout speaks volumes about who is and what he is doing there – more so than any words he could have said.

 

His legs are aching, but these people know nothing of his trauma. Maybe if they did, they would take less kindly to him – maybe they would take advantage of it.

 

He needs to remain strong while they watch.

 

And they do watch him – as the hides his struggles to stay upright, making his way through the corridors of a house ruined by fire. It’s not burnt down to the bare foundation, but enough for the beams to be broken and charcoaled, the wallpaper reduced to crisps, and the furniture to become nothing but blackened lumps stacked away in the corners. There is a lingering, faint smell of something burned, rotting wood and heavy odours of dirt, choking and hot.

 

It’s a place that brings back a lot of terrifying memories for Kihyun, and he wishes he didn’t have to go through here. He tries to close his eyes and just look down, down at the ground beneath his feet, but that is a sign of weakness, and he cannot afford that.

 

He feels strangely empathetic towards the old house, identifying with it as he would a fellow wounded soldier, but at the same time, it is a mirror of his torment, of the beams and burning roof that threatened to swallow him years and years ago. The horrifying moment that threatened to take his life, but in the end settled for tearing him apart, slowly but surely, with every passing day.

 

And he tries to ignore those fears, the additional tremor to his limbs, the flashes of a fire behind his eyelids.

 

Instead he looks at the people.

 

Why did they have to meet at a place like this?

 

It takes time, more than he would like, but in the end he makes it through it all and towards the back room, his final destination.

 

And there he is, at last.

 

Will is lounging at the stairs, glancing down at him cautiously while flicking a lighter with his right thumb. Kihyun winces a little at the sight of it, but tries to keep his face neutral. Firm, strong, dependable – dangerous.

 

He looks at Will meaningfully, down at the sack, the red stains beneath his sneakers, back up at Will again.

 

_I did what you asked. Where is my part of the deal?_

Will is a volatile man, but he is also terribly intelligent and cautious – he’s a man Kihyun can respect for his character, if not for his agenda. They are similar in a lot of ways.

 

One of their similarities is that they don’t use words carelessly.

 

Will makes a movement as if to toss away his hood, and Kihyun sighs in exasperation – a bold move, because he is not the one in control here – before bending down to pull at the opening of the sack.

 

It’s grotesque, ugly and starting to smell, but the degradation only hits Kihyun with a dull sort of regret, and maybe that is the worst part. He didn’t use to be like this. He shouldn’t be like this.

 

He should scream, cry, run away in revolt and beg for a forgiveness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

 

And yet here he is.

 

Exposing his deeds unflinchingly, because that’s what it has all come to now. Conscience is a liability, and this new game is one where only the strongest survives – but it’s costly to be the strong ones.

 

Kihyun has always been the weak one. Changkyun, Hoseok, Jooheon, all the others have had to be strong for him. It’s time for him to be strong for them.

 

He can live with this if it means they won’t have to.

 

Will still doesn’t make a sound, but his posture slackens, leaning back against the wall a little bit and letting his hands still from their twitch. He is satisfied, Kihyun thinks as he stands up and wipes slick fingers on the back of his pants. Will approves, as he knew he would – Kihyun is not one to do a job halfway, certainly not now, when he knows they can’t risk it.

 

He stares back at Will, almost defiantly, repeating his question with only a look.

 

_Where is my part of the deal?_

And finally, _finally,_ he sees Will nodding, slowly and deliberately, accepting.

 

Kihyun releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

Will raises a finger, long and adorned by silver, pointing at one of his henchmen standing at attention behind Kihyun.

 

His vision goes dark as rough fabric is shoved over his head, and he allows himself two seconds of panic and instinctive struggling before he forces himself to stand still. No one is restraining or attacking him. No one is stringing a rope around his neck or putting fires under his feet.

 

He’s fine. It’s all a part of the agreement.

 

“My men will take you to see the goods,” Will says, slightly muted but his voice remains deep and smooth – much like Kihyun’s own, and it sounds like a faithful promise in the dark. “You know the price. Once you have decided, you know where to find me.”

 

He does. Kihyun does not know where they are going, where Will keeps the precious prize – that’s why they keep him blind. Will moves quickly and without warning, but he is easy enough to find for those he’ll let close. But his resources – he keeps them well hidden, and Kihyun is only allowed to witness their existence to make his decision faster.

 

Kihyun already knows what his answer will be, if Will is telling the truth.

 

He knows he will concede.

 

He needs to.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Jooheon knows he is asking for a lot, when he asks the resistance for help freeing his friends.

 

He knows the resistance are loyal to their people, but pragmatic in their efforts to topple the regime. Not everyone can be saved, and in times of war, sacrifices have to be made.

 

And of course, Jooheon knows this. He agrees with this, wholeheartedly – that is the harsh reality of their fight, the losses, the tough decisions, the regret.

 

But after a lifetime at their side, he owes them an earnest attempt at setting up a rescue. Hyungwon and Minhyuk, the brave and fallen – good soldiers to the last. Those who have nothing to fear anymore, because they have already seen the rear ends of the world and survived. Except – no fear does not equate no pain. Time is still ticking for them, inside the hospital, inside the wicked institution where the subtle warriors perform their tasks undisturbed. They don’t deserve their fate, they have had enough.

 

And Hyunwoo – perhaps Hyunwoo in particular, because Jooheon knows he is part of the reason why Hyunwoo has been locked up ever since they first set things into motion in their little village.

 

Ever since _Jooheon_ set things into motion.

 

He incited the recognition of a brotherhood, and gave each of them courage to fight their own battles, and he was the one who pushed Hyunwoo to complete the robbery. The arson, he had nothing to do with, but he did ignite something in Hyunwoo and provided him with the tools to act upon his impulses. He was complicit, an instigator, and now Hyunwoo has suffered for it long enough.

 

None of them deserves their imprisonment, but Jooheon feels the most frustrated on Hyunwoo’s behalf.

 

And furthermore…

 

He knows his support will depend on how he frames his plea. Hyunwoo is strong, capable and motivated by the death of his uncle, betrayed by the government and discarded as a silly boy. With enough time to stew in prison and fuel his anger - exactly the kind of character the resistance are looking for.

 

Minhyuk and Hyungwon are little bit worse. They are too egocentric, too focused on each other rather than the cause, and while they have nothing to fear for themselves, they have something to lose – with minor contributions, compared to Hyunwoo.

 

Jooheon realizes he will have to prioritize in order to maximize the probability of getting help.

 

It’s a sour realization that burns as bile in his throat, but this is it.

 

It’s better than nothing, certainly, and maybe this – this is the _something_ he needs to regain his friends’ good will.

 

He doesn’t want Minhyuk and Hyungwon to be sacrifices, but that is how it is – war.

 

Brutal.

 

He prepares his argument meticulously – there is only once chance after this.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The rough fabric over his head scratches at his nose and his cheeks uncomfortably, and the air inside the sack is just thick and stuffy enough to be slightly claustrophobic.

 

But Kihyun endures it – he has to be patient.

 

He doesn’t say a word, nor do Will’s henchmen as they haul him out of the car none too gently and shoves him in some direction until he walks. He prefers to comply easily, otherwise they will manhandle him until he does what they wants, and that is as painful as it is degrading.

 

It doesn’t matter. It’s in his best interest to follow their instructions anyway.

 

They make him ascend a set of stairs, and then a while after, descend another – and he wonders if this is really necessary, or if they are just confusing him, as if he has any clue about where they are to begin with.

 

His legs ache from the strain, and this is already taking longer than anticipated – he should have had his second dose a while ago, but he couldn’t very well fish out his little plastic bag of pills while Will and his crew were watching, could he?

 

He has to keep going for a little while longer. It should be fine.

 

But perseverance does not eliminate frustration.

 

And then, the men behind him stop, shoving him forward roughly one last time before their footsteps recede again. Kihyun frowns inside the hood, but when he hears the sound of a door flicking shut, he dares to bring a hand up to tug at the sack.

 

No one stops him.

 

When it falls off completely, he sees that he is in a barren room, small, almost like a storage or waiting room. There is no one else around, nothing else, really, apart from the two doors – one behind him, and one in front.

 

He guesses he is supposed to enter the one in front of him.

 

The window is obscured, dirty and blurry, unable to show what lies behind, but it is something lighter, something different than the plain grey and brown otherwise outlining the room he finds himself in.

 

It must be in there – so close now.

 

But when he finds his hand on the knob, almost about to turn it and tear the door open, he stops, thinking.

 

This is it. This is what he has looked for, what his search has been all about, why he has let himself become a puppet for Will, and what if –

 

What if it’s not true?

 

What if it was all a lie?

 

He couldn’t bear the thought of it all being a waste, crimes done for no purpose at all, blood shed meaninglessly and his own nightmares a result of futility. If everything he did, if all the secrecy and the lies he told Changkyun and Hoseok only lead to a great mistake.

 

What if –

 

His back screams at him.

 

He opens the door with a brisk pull.

 

And there it is.

 

Blue, blue, blue, an ocean of clean sapphire standing out against the grungy walls, beautiful and perfect and –

 

That is exactly what Kihyun needs.

 

He had almost forgotten how beautiful the Bluebird was in its true form – growing freely, wildly, dyeing the floor blue and green and almost ethereal in times of darkness. He had never quite enjoyed it while he was a child, simply because it was everywhere, and it’s qualities weren’t known to him in those days.

 

But now – he has missed it, and it’s a vision that lifts a heavy weight from his shoulders, because at last, something is going his way, things are going to get better, and the Bluebird – it will be their salvation once more.

 

The Bluebird was native to their village, and virtually non-existent anywhere else in the country – odd, considering how rapidly it spread beneath that lonely mountain. And so far, they have had to rely on Changkyun carrying the flowers by hand, stuffing a decent amount of them in his backpack and taking the bike ride back and forth between their current location and the general area of the old village. It always takes some days, and he has to move carefully, because the county has become heavily guarded since they left. Furthermore, he can’t stuff the flowers, or they will break – and the journey has always left the flowers slightly wizened, crushed and far from ideal several days after their harvest.

 

This won’t have to be a problem anymore.

 

Kihyun doesn’t know how, but Will has grown an entire room full of Bluebird plants, vines stretching and climbing on poles firmly planted in heavy terracotta pots, full, transportable if they can get this farm back to the school, they will be set for months to come – even more if they can keep growing the plants there.

 

And then they will only have to wait for Hoseok’s machine.

 

By the time it’s done, they can relax – no more dangerous trips, no more uncertainty, no hassle from the central of the resistance.

 

They will be safe.

 

They will be okay.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The machine is not okay.

 

Hoseok isn’t sure exactly what’s wrong, but it is something about the way the wiring is connected to the control panel on the side. Three of the buttons are unresponsive, and without them, they won’t be able to control the timing and the level of intensity – both of which are vital to the appropriate execution of the process.

 

Changkyun doesn’t understand any of it, but he listens to Hoseok when he bounces ideas or concerns off of him late at night. Changkyun sort of wants to go to sleep, but Kihyun is still out, and Hoseok isn’t going to bed anytime soon, and he doesn’t want to be alone.

 

He feels quite alone, already, feels like everyone are taking off in their own directions while he stays behind, the same little boy as he has always been – confused, looking up to his older brothers, his friends and his family.

 

He doesn’t get why it has to be like this.

 

Why can’t they just be happy with each other, as they were before? Why do they have to take others’ problems and make them theirs – why do they have to be the saviours of the country? They are just kids. They don’t even know that what they do will make a difference.

 

Instead, they are just exposing themselves to danger as carelessly and boldly as only youths can.

 

But Changkyun knows – they are not invincible.

 

Hoseok falls quiet in the middle of an explanation when they hear the doors opening behind them.

 

“I’ve found it,” Kihyun announces, making Hoseok and Changkyun turn around. “The Bluebird. I’ve found it.”

 

“Here?” Hoseok frowns. “And now? It’s almost winter, are you sure it’s not just – “

 

“It’s the Bluebird,” Kihyun shakes his head. “There’s this guy, he’s… He grows them inside. He’ll sell us the plants. They would fill the entire hall, there are so many of them.”

 

“What guy?” Changkyun mumbles, but the others don’t acknowledge his sour tone. It’s discomforting, their acceptance of this shady business element – not that their endeavours are exactly legal or moral to begin with, but Changkyun doesn’t think they should dig themselves deeper than they already are.

 

There it is again – this blatant disregard for their own safety, the lack of respect for the risks posed to them, is exactly the kind of changes in his friends that frustrates Changkyun so much. He wishes they would stop, take a step back and just consider what they are doing.

 

Maybe then they would stop – pack up and go home, or make a new home. Somewhere far away, somewhere safe.

 

It’s all Changkyun wants, really.

 

These drugs, the war, the fighting – it’s not for him, and he didn’t think it was anything his friends would throw themselves into either. Changkyun was always the rashest and most aggressive one back at the orphanage, because he is impulsive and protective. But that’s in the moment, and what they are now is a prolonged exposure to something beyond their own control. It’s something they could avoid. Something they could abandon.

 

And yet they chose not to – why?

 

“ – and I didn’t see, they blindfolded me on the way, but the flowers were real, and he is willing to provide transport,” Kihyun continues, only leaning slightly on the wall for support as he recounts the details.

 

“Blindfolded?” Changkyun speaks up much louder this time, glancing over at Hoseok and he is happy to finally see his concern shared by someone else. Finally. Hoseok has always been the one to sympathize the most with his worries. “Hyung, they could have done _anything_ to you – who is this? He sounds dangerous.”

 

At this, Kihyun smiles, almost sheepishly, but Changkyun recognizes the resentment underneath. Not directed at him – never at him. At life. And Changkyun wants to shout, you don’t have to live this life. You can leave. We can all leave.

 

He doesn’t say that.

 

“Since when have we lived without danger, Changkyun?”

 

“He’s got a point, though,” Hoseok interjects and moves around the machine to pull out his working chair for Kihyun. He refuses the offer and remains standing, even though his discomfort is plain on his face. “How do you know you can trust this guy?”

 

“We have a mutual understanding,” Kihyun clicks his tongue. “Relax. I’ll take care of it.”

 

“What about payment? The resistance won’t be lenient with their precious money.”

 

“I said I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Kihyun – “ Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping it hard, and Changkyun would have winced in sympathy if he wasn’t so frustrated with Kihyun’s careless attitude. “Don’t do anything rash, or anything you will regret. It’s not worth it, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

 

“No, we won’t,” Kihyun sneers, but doesn’t push away the hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly, he slinks down into the chair. “This is the ‘something’ we’re supposed to figure out. We’ve been living on the edge of the precipice for too long, and now we don’t have to anymore. This is our chance. I can’t let it go.”

 

“And who gave you permission to play the martyr?” Changkyun’s frown deepens. It’s meant as an accusation, but not to hurt. He just wants to get his point across, and maybe he speaks a little bit to quickly.

 

And Kihyun, Kihyun stares at him as if betrayed.

 

“I’m not playing the martyr,” he bites back, his tone suddenly icy cold. “I’m just doing what needs to be done. I’m doing whatever I _can,_ and finally that means something – “

 

He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath and brings a fist to his temple, clenching his eyes shut as usual when the pain medication gives him migraines. And finally, he slumps into the chair Hoseok brought him earlier, elbows on his knees as he drops his head into his hands.

 

The silence that follows is all kinds of uncomfortable, because no one has anything to say to this. Changkyun doesn’t want to continue the argument, Kihyun is unable to, and Hoseok -

 

Hoseok hovers, awkwardly, rubbing his hand across the back of Kihyun’s neck in soft movements, providing whatever kind of anchoring he can, easing the pain just a little. Hoseok doesn’t want them to fight, he just wants them to keep low. He doesn’t have a standpoint, and that’s almost as frustrating as Kihyun and Jooheon’s continuous fight, almost cowardly, Changkyun thinks. It’s not fair, and as he looks at Hoseok concerned expression from where he fidgets near Kihyun, Changkyun knows he can’t be mad at him.

 

But he wishes Hoseok would be his ally in this.

 

Changkyun can’t bring himself to approach the two of them.

 

Instead, he turns around and walks away briskly, out of the main hall, ignoring Hoseok calling his name.

 

If he goes back, his frustrations will increase. He will want to unleash his anger on them again, he will see the determination in their eyes and want to break it down until they have no convictions left and come with him willingly, somewhere far away, and just forget that this ever happened.

 

Forget that they fought, forget what they lost, what they did, forget their pain.

 

But it’s not fair to do that either, and he can’t attack while Kihyun is in such a vulnerable position. It’s mean, threatening, and everything Changkyun does not want to be.

 

Rationally, he would never do anything to hurt Kihyun – or Hoseok or Jooheon or any of the others, really – but he wants to pound some sense into their brains. But he knows he isn’t very convincing, that has never been his strength, and his continuous attempts will probably only increase the animosity.

 

He doesn’t want that either.

 

Then what can he do besides leave?

 

He will come back later, when he has calmed down. When both he and Kihyun have simmered down – when they both regret their words and want nothing else than to go to sleep.

 

That’s when Changkyun will return.

 

For now, he leaves through the back exit and picks up his game from the pocket of his hoodie.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

At last.

 

After hours, days, weeks of pouring over the machine and tuning every part of until it works, stably and reliably, Hoseok is ready to test the machine and commence the mass production of the Bluebird’s juice.

 

“Is it going to work?” Jooheon asks, cautiously, and Hoseok has to bite his lip to avoid snapping at him.

 

Jooheon hasn’t been around the entire time, hasn’t seen the amount of work Hoseok has put into this machine. Hasn’t seen how Kihyun has suffered to get the resources, hasn’t seen the light dim in Changkyun’s eyes every time he looks at the machine and remembers what they are doing.

 

Jooheon hasn’t been around to see that Hoseok has done everything in his power to make sure their suffering hasn’t been in vain.

 

He can’t afford for the machine _not_ to work.

 

So _of course it works._

 

“It will,” he says, eventually, and tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Jooheon hasn’t been around to see what he has seen, but he has done other things that Hoseok knows nothing about, and it’s not fair for him to receive the brunt of Hoseok’s frustrations.  It’s a fair question to ask. It’s fair to doubt.

 

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

 

But he still can’t look at Jooheon with the same kind eyes as he did before.

 

“Hoseok-hyung spent a lot of time on it,” Changkyun says quietly, from the side. “I have faith in him.”

 

Next to him, Kihyun nods, giving Hoseok a small smile that almost reaches his eyes.

 

This has to work.

 

Without another word, Jooheon steps back, watching, letting the others take control and show him the full effect of the machine.

 

They all have a role to play – for all of Hoseok’s hard work and brilliant design choices, it is still a complex machines, in need of coordination and effective timing to make all the process run as smoothly as possible.

 

Hoseok handles a set of levers, heavy-looking and long, pulling the first one around in a wide arch before calling out a start signal to the others. At the same time, the machine starts rumbling, groaning and spinning. Light bulbs start blinking in various colours, and the boys get to work at their orders. Kihyun’s eyes move like restless ants to track the changes in the lights, and he only looks down to find the right buttons to punch once the lights change from yellow to blue.

 

Changkyun holds a little pad with a tiny lever and three small buttons, looking almost suspiciously similar to his game, hidden beneath the stuffed bears by the old pool. He drags the lever up and down, occasionally pushing a button to change the settings according to Hoseok’s instructions. It’s a tool Hoseok installed to make the machine workable at an earlier stage; but while Changkyun’s deft fingers and quick reaction time can help them regulate the juicer and temperature manually for now, they want to make this feature automatized as well – sometime.

 

It doesn’t take long before the thin, blue liquid starts running through a pipe towards the next part of the machine, and then another pipe, spiralling and going downwards, is filled from that part again.

 

That is a good sign.

 

It means the unstable parts, the ones Hoseok was the most worried about, are working.

 

He glances at the others and smiles triumphantly.

 

“There you go, guys,” he says cheekily. “Our legacy. It’s a success.”

 

Kihyun gives a small nod, while Changkyun remains focused on his controller.

 

Jooheon steps around the machine to stand next to Hoseok to watch the blue liquid make its way through the various stages of refinement and preparation. Everything they have done by hand, grinding and boiling and burning and mixing – all of that is taking place within the machine, behind metal walls and inside dark tubes. Hoseok knows it is impressive, and he knows that Jooheon admires his – _their_ handiwork.

 

It doesn’t look like much – in fact, the machine is quite ugly, but the end product should be more than good enough. Not quite as good as the old-fashioned, handmade deal, but good enough for any outsiders to appreciate the serum nonetheless. Hoseok didn’t bother adding any visually appealing elements to the machine, but he did leave a signature. In between cooling elements and breaks, he had taken some spar metal shards and made them into something symbolic – nothing much, but enough to allow them to reclaim some of their hold of the bluebird.

 

It’s a twisted cross, the two metal bits laid over each other at an angle until they formed some kind of x.

 

It mirrors the mark they all share, imprinted on their bodies in times of fraternity, faith, and optimism.

 

Very little of that remains, but they will savour whatever they have.

 

At least Hoseok will.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“Jooheon,” Hoseok calls out after him as he steps outside into the dark, cold night. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Jooheon’s face is blank, unreadable, but he nods nonetheless and stuffs his hands in his pockets as Hoseok closes the door behind him. “Of course.”

 

But his calm is broken like a gunshot when Hoseok turns back to him and shoves him against the wall, arm against Jooheon’s throat and eyes alight with fury. Hoseok has always been bigger and stronger, but never have their differences felt bigger than now. Especially after months of forging and creation, Hoseok’s arms are like concrete against Jooheon’s still slender neck.

 

It’s a power play, and for the first time since they left the orphanage, Hoseok is in charge.

 

It’s exhilarating, but he has a purpose.

 

“Do you even care anymore?” Hoseok hisses, adjusting his grip to still apply a painful pressure, but not enough to actually harm him. “Or are you just that ignorant?!”

 

“What?” Jooheon squeaks, and his surprise sends a spark of glee through Hoseok’s stomach, although accompanied by another pang of guilt. Jooheon is his friend, brother, and they are supposed to be on the same side. He is not supposed to take pleasure in Jooheon’s discomfort, regardless of how upset with him he is right now.

 

But then he thinks of the two boys inside the school, and the two boys lost to the black soldiers – and the single man wasting away in a prison for _years._

His frustrations flare up again.

 

“Do you not see what’s happening to them?” He asks, nodding his head in the direction of the building. “Do you not feel remorse for the ones we’ve left behind? How can you go on like this, Jooheon, when there’s nothing but pain for your lifelong brothers?”

 

“Of course I care!” Jooheon protests, and wiggles slightly against Hoseok’s hold. Hoseok doesn’t budge an inch. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I think you’re too lost in your precious resistance to see the cost of it,” Hoseok shakes his head. “Changkyun is on the verge of a breakdown, because every time he goes out to sell more of these drugs, he knows he is ruining a life. He knows he is taking money from someone who’s as bad off as we are, money they should use on food and shelter that they are instead wasting on false pleasures sold to finance a civil war!”

 

“That’s the price of peace,” Jooheon argues, not aggressively, but with determination, and Hoseok wishes he could admire that, if nothing else. Right now, he doesn’t. “Things always get worse before they get better! I know that Changkyun is soft, but he is not forcing this on anyone – it’s their own choice, and we have to take advantage of their independent, bad choices!”

 

“Addiction is not an independent choice!” Hoseok sneers and digs his arm a little bit deeper into Jooheon’s throat.

 

“And how much do you expect us to take responsibility of someone else’s life? We have each other to consider, and isn’t that more than enough?”

 

“Then what about Kihyun?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“If we can’t care about anyone besides ourselves - why did you think it was a good idea to turn a traumatized boy into an agent?” Hoseok’s lips tremble at that, but he needs to keep going. He is on a roll and Jooheon is listening, responding in earnest, and now that the waterfall has been released, he can’t stop. “He can’t even walk properly, for fuck’s sake – and half the time he flat-out refuses to talk to anyone that isn’t us because he’s still uncomfortable using his own voice. But the things you’ve made him do…”

 

He shakes his head sadly, half in anger.

 

“No one should have to do those things – I can’t believe you made your friend do that.”

 

“Do what?” Jooheon frowns, looking genuinely confused. “What is he – I’m not the one giving him orders, he had someone else from the central, but mostly, we just gave him some contacts, people to talk to in order to find the Bluebird – we wanted to make him to recon!”

 

“Are you sure that’s what _they_ wanted to?” Hoseok snorts. “The central forces? That’s certainly not all he’s doing. Jooheon, when he returns, his hands are bloody, his eyes are dead and he doesn’t sleep well. I don’t want to know the details, but I do know that this is far from okay!”

 

“I can’t control what deals he makes on his own, but I’m pretty sure we would never ask him to – to hurt anyone – “ and save him, Jooheon doesn’t even sound convinced of his own words anymore. He sounds uncertain, doubting, but Hoseok isn’t sure exactly what part he finds the most unnerving.

 

He hopes it’s everything.

 

“That’s bullshit, Jooheon, hurting people is pretty much the premise of this rebellion,” Hoseok groans. “Topple the regime, whatever the price – if you can speed up the process by stepping on innocent people, all the better, right?”

 

“That’s not what’s going on at all,” Jooheon shoots back, and now his voice is rising. Back to ideology, back to familiar grounds. Back to the justifications he makes for himself, Hoseok thinks. Jooheon isn’t a bad guy, has never been – but perhaps he is too eager, too zealous, let’s the endgame purify the methods.

 

He’ll listen to the tirade. Hoseok will tear it down – with the truth of how they are struggling.

 

Jooheon keeps going. “We’re only doing what’s necessary – do you think our group is the only one making sacrifices? Do you think we would let our own suffer if they didn’t have to? The entire point with the resistance is to free the people from pain!”

 

“And is this the only way?” Hoseok huffs. “Who will be left to savour the freedom this way, Jooheon?”

 

Jooheon shakes his head frantically, narrowing his eyes, and Hoseok knows that if he had free reins, he would have thrown his head back in exasperation. “Hyung, can’t you see? This is so much bigger than us! It’s not just about our future, it’s about the future of every suppressed citizen in this country! I don’t know about you, but I would gladly give my life to see a hundred others live happy lives. The more people join the fight, the easier it will be – and then we can all enjoy the peace for the rest of our lives. There are still so many people living in isolation thanks to this forsaken regime, and our fight will allow them to enjoy the world again!”

 

“And the benefits will truly outweigh the costs? I see that you are very enamoured with the resistance’s current methods.”

 

That makes Jooheon close his mouth, consider his next words for a second. Hoseok can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to find an angle, trying to get around Hoseok’s accusations. Maybe they are a bit harsh, maybe they are not exactly true – Hoseok doesn’t think Jooheon genuinely approves of the brutal way of the resistance, but he does think Jooheon accepts a lot in order to achieve his peace.

 

A peace, that Hoseok is losing faith in.

 

"I’m not in charge of this structure,” Jooheon says, at last, carefully. “Whatever Kihyun does, he does so willingly. I can’t be held accountable for that. If you want him to stop, you need to go to him – I genuinely don’t know what he is doing!"

 

No. No, that’s not enough. "I tried, he won't talk to me about it. Just says that he's got it under control, that he's doing something sensitive, or that he doesn't have the energy to discuss it - just bullshit, all of it, but calling him out doesn't help at all, and not even Changkyun can't get anything useful out of him. Actually, I think Changkyun is the last person Kihyun would talk to about this... He's trying to put him back into that little brother box, and it's not doing anyone any favours. I get that he's trying to protect him, but...."

 

“Then maybe you should let Kihyun do what he wants,” Jooheon snorts. “He isn’t stupid, he can make his own decisions. If he wants to fight, he can fight. You have to trust him.”

 

“Like you have trusted us?” Hoseok digs his arm into Jooheon’s throat again, cutting off all protests. “I don’t trust Kihyun with his own safety anymore, because there is so much more at play here – nothing is black and white. Don’t you see what the resistance has done to him? They found a use for all of us! You are cunning and passionate, I have an eye for craftsmanship, and Changkyun is the poster boy for harmlessness and the perfect dealer - then what's Kihyun, you think? He was the best shot out of all of us when we were in the field, do you think the resistance wants to let that skill go to waste as an errand boy? And what they've done for his legs - that misguided sense of obligation is perfect for anyone who wants to exploit him. Jooheon, the resistance could make him do _anything_ , and we wouldn't even know, because he refuses to talk to us about it!" 

 

“Then what do you want me to do?!” Jooheon cries, half-muffled, and tries to shove Hoseok away. It’s not very effective, and Hoseok barely budges against Jooheon’s hands. It makes him feel even stronger, powerful. Like he truly is the righteous one in this case.

 

“What do you want me to do to fix this mess that you can’t?!”

 

So, so much. He wants Jooheon to stop, to open his eyes, to rearrange his priorities, or even just approach the central group about their problems – anything, he wants Jooheon to do anything. He wants him to act for his friends, and not just the cause, wants him to see them as more than useful acquaintances.

 

“I want you to care,” he says, in the end, and he says it with tenderness, and as much love as he used to hold for this boy – that he still does, if he digs deeply enough, if he looks past everything Jooheon has done, and everything he has become for the resistance.

 

But Jooheon shakes his head, not quite angrily, but weary. “I do care, hyung. I do, really.”

 

Hoseok studies him for a long, hard moment. Tries to spot any sign of a lie, a sign of hesitancy.

 

He doesn’t, but that’s no better.

 

“Then I want you to care like you did before.”

 

He lets Jooheon go after that, and walks back inside while Jooheon stumbles upright. He doesn’t know what Jooheon will make of his last comment, but he knows what he means. And it’s true – Jooheon doesn’t care like he used to. Maybe he thinks he does, but his heart only has so much space. And Hoseok needs him to see that, because –

 

Because they need him.

 

He doesn’t go back to the main hall after that, doesn’t go to the old office to fall asleep with Changkyun and Kihyun.

 

Instead, he stops by an old closet in a hallway. Shuffles through the drawers until he finds what he searches for and heads up to the roof.

 

He lights a cigarette before he has even stepped outside.

 

Then he thinks of his brother.

 

He misses him.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

When Jooheon gets the greenlight to gather a crew to raid the prison, he is ecstatic.

 

Gunhee jumps up and down with him, gleeful and enthusiastic, because they will be freeing a lot of their companions, a lot of brothers in arms tossed away for a long time and left to rot in old prison cells for no other reason than a desire to be free.

 

They collect a small group of skilled, subtle agents, good men that they trust, good men that will do their job quickly and efficiently, whatever that may be. They double-check the information from their inside sources, picks up a set of keys beneath a broken van in an old garage by the pharmacy, double-check their information again, and set off.

 

It’s not pretty, it’s not fast, and Jooheon knows it will have repercussions.

 

But the decision was made on a level above him, and when the leaders approve, he will only nod happily and carry out their decision. He supports it, after all, and he reminds himself of the positive outcome when he shoves his knife through a guard’s neck at the bottom of the stairs.

 

Their agents run across the floors, shouting orders and messages at each other, and Jooheon waves Gunhee off as he goes to search for the one he promised the resistance.

 

The resource.

 

The pillar.

 

The fighter.

 

He doesn’t have to search long before he finds a door with only a small window, towards the end of the row, and when he looks in, he sees that familiar face – worn by imprisonment, sorrow, and despair, but when Hyunwoo looks up, his eyes are full of vengeance.

 

“Jooheon?” He whispers despite the ruckus, getting up from his cot in one swift motion before striding over to the door. “Are you really here?”

 

“As real as can be,” Jooheon grins, before looking down to fiddle with the lock. It pops open after precisely three seconds, and it feels like an eternity, his hands are shaking and his heart pumping, but when the lock finally clicks and the door swings open, he is enveloped by Hyunwoo’s huge, strong arms, gathering him tight for the first time in –

 

How long?

 

“Jooheon,” Hyunwoo chuckles, patting Jooheon’s back slightly against the hug.

 

Jooheon doesn’t have the heart to point out the slight suffocation he feels from the strong hold.

 

“Hi hyung,” he says instead, sounding slightly wheezy, and Hyunwoo lets his grip slacken a little bit. “I missed you too.”

 

“This is great,” Hyunwoo says, stepping back at last, looking Jooheon up and down, as if they are reunited after a few months of travel, rather than war. “And this…? Is that the…?”

 

“The resistance, yes,” Jooheon nods eagerly, waving an arm out at the chaos they have created as he starts pulling Hyunwoo along, on their way out. “I promised we’d get you out, here we are. The others are a part of it as well.”

 

“Are they here too?” Hyunwoo starts looking around for familiar faces until Jooheon shakes his head.

 

“They’re at a base,” he explains. “Safe. I’ll take you to them, they’re safe, don’t worry.”

 

“This is great,” Hyunwoo repeats, sidestepping for a second to deliver a punch to a guard raising his gun at them. It’s a movement so natural, so anticipated and hardly considered, that Jooheon almost has to pause.

 

Hyunwoo was never one to dish out violence, despite his prowess – and granted, that was one of the promises he made the resistance, that Hyunwoo would be a great powerhouse, an ideal soldier – but he didn’t expect the transition to already have happened.

 

“We’re getting out of here,” Jooheon says, for good measure, to himself, to keep his mouth occupied.

 

He hopes he has not dug a grave for Hyunwoo by bringing him into the resistance this way.

 

He hopes Hyunwoo will be easier to deal with than Changkyun, Kihyun and Hoseok.

 

They make their way out and reconvene before taking off to the headquarters again. And Jooheon doesn’t expect anything more than to have a debriefing, the usual report to his regular supervisor, but then Hyunwoo demands to speak to the leaders of the resistance.

 

To swear his fealty.

 

And looking into his eyes, his determination and his conviction, Jooheon feels his doubt being washed aside – Hyunwoo understands. Hyunwoo gets it.

 

Hyunwoo is a pure member of the resistance.

 

And as he pulls out the leaders, in their anonymous masks designed to keep their identity from potential swindlers, he thinks, this, this is how it should be.

 

Hyunwoo is a man of honour, an he insists on making vows to the leaders, his new kings – allows Jooheon to dictate an unwritten manifesto of the resistance while Hyunwoo pronounces his good faith to the cause. His belief, and his desire to right what has gone wrong in this world.

 

By the end of it, one of the leaders approaches Hyunwoo and puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Welcome home, Son Hyunwoo.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

When Jooheon brings him to the group, Hyunwoo can immediately tell that the dynamics have changed a lot since he last saw them back at the village.

 

Jooheon had told him about Minhyuk and Hyungwon, and that had only strengthened Hyunwoo’s resolve. That is what happens when he is away. Maybe he could have prevented that from happening if he had been with them. Maybe he could have led them home safely.

 

He can’t do that now – he can only protect the ones in front of him.

 

And they have changed, so, so much.

 

Hoseok is the first to greet him, and although he had still been a child the last time Hyunwoo saw him, he appears an adult now – in fact, he looks and holds himself like someone older than Hyunwoo. He greets him with a hug, strong and tight between two big men, and Hyunwoo thinks, good, Hoseok has filled his role while he was away. He has been their shield – and it has worn him down, obviously, but that ends now. He doesn’t have to do it alone anymore.

 

Hyunwoo will help him.

 

Then he sees Kihyun, pink hair blazing oddly, walking – without his crutches, and Hyunwoo has to do a double-take. Is he limping? Has he healed?

 

But they said his legs and his spine would never heal?

 

Though as Kihyun approaches him, Hyunwoo sees something more. He sees ghosts in Kihyun’s eyes, terror and ice different from the constant fear he lived under in the village. This is more savage, like an animal, a cornered animal, and only the tiny spark of warmth keeps Hyunwoo from flinching back from his touch.

 

Kihyun – who used to be the gentlest among them. What happened to him?

 

Regardless of whatever else has changed, Kihyun is still small, and Hyunwoo wraps an arm around him when he approaches, Changkyun right behind him. That has not changed either, and Changkyun fits snuggly under Hyunwoo’s other arm.

 

Hyunwoo almost doesn’t have the time to catch it, because he had been too preoccupied with the changes in Kihyun, but Changkyun is different too. It’s subtle, and he almost doesn’t catch it from the short glimpse, but Changkyun looks so utterly broken.

 

Tired, more than anything, sad, and defeated. Devoid of life – ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

 

What has happened to his boys?

 

And he notices something else. He notices how Jooheon hovers, at the edge of the group, not quite joining the rejoicing, the happiness and the relief. He’s standing a bit further away, glancing nervously at Hoseok, then at Jooheon – anticipating?

 

Hyunwoo is not good enough at reading other people to analyse all these odd feelings and impression.

 

But he understands that things are not okay – that they are struggling, suffering, that they are _not okay._

That’s going to change now.

 

Hyunwoo is going to fix this.

 

“Jooheon,” he says over the top of Kihyun and Changkyun’s heads. Jooheon glances up at him, face carefully blank, and even Hoseok stops glaring at Jooheon for a second to see what Hyunwoo wants.

 

Good. He needs to fix this.

 

“Let’s get Minhyuk and Hyungwon back.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Jooheon had been reluctant when Hyunwoo brought it up, because he had already spent all his good will on the operation to get _him_ out quite recently, and as far as he knows, there are no other benefits for the resistance to go into the hospital. His arguments are built on air, and he mentally prepares himself to bring rejection back to the others even before he voices his propositions.

 

But practiced words are a lot harder to pronounce when faced with expectant faces.

 

He isn’t a wizard. He can’t bring magical solutions to them just because they ask.

 

Is that why Hoseok was so upset with him? Because he thought Jooheon could improve their lives, get anything from the resistance if he wanted to?

 

He hopes not, because that means Hoseok has a great, fundamental misunderstanding of the hierarchy of the resistance. Fair enough, Jooheon has risen a lot recently – but he is still no leader.

 

Not even to this group, he realizes as he stands before his friends, brothers, family. His old friends, brothers, and family.

 

He isn’t their leader – and right now, he isn’t even sure if he is a group member.

 

“The resistance won’t help,” he states bluntly, and watches as their faces fall as one. “As I knew already. But I know where they are – and how to get in. The resistance won’t sanction an inside job assisted by the two nurses we have there, but they have given me some pointers. We should be able to get in and out with the two of them, if we play our cards right.”

 

“And this is a very big ‘if’, isn’t it?” Hoseok frowns, and Jooheon gives him an exasperated look. The two of them are still a bit tense after their fight, but they don’t intend on making it an issue for all of the boys, and play civil when needed to.

 

“That’s right,” Jooheon confirms coldly. “It’s a big ‘if’. But I wouldn’t have brought this up if I didn’t think we could do it. And you want them out, don’t you? This is the best opportunity we’ll have. With Hyunwoo-hyung here as well, we might just be able to do it.”

 

“Do you have a plan?” Hyunwoo asks, already approving.

 

Hyunwoo is a supporter. As expected, he is eager, determined and uncaring of the potential dangers inherent in the job.

 

Kihyun doesn’t appear to have any qualms either, but he has yet to speak up about the issue. Jooheon suspects that Changkyun knows exactly what Kihyun thinks, but he has his own opinions, and they might not be compatible. He will not fight Kihyun’s battle for him if he thinks it will be a detriment to his own argument.

 

Because Changkyun’s argument revolves around Kihyun – that much Jooheon knows.

 

They are a mess right now, all of them.

 

Hyungwon and Minhyuk should be able to restore some semblance of order to their group.

 

They’ll be able to unify their differences and just be friends again. No conflicts, no arguments – no anger.

 

Together against a common enemy – the soldiers.

 

That’s what Jooheon wants.

 

“I have a plan,” he confirms, nodding and staring into all of their eyes – except for Hoseok’s, because he is looking away. Out the window, out at the grey clouds on the horizon and the treeline that stretches hundreds of yards away until there is a new cluster of concrete and bricks.

 

He ignores Hoseok.

 

“So the skeleton goes a little bit like this,” Jooheon starts. “We go in, wearing our disguises – I have some pretty good ones up my sleeve, including one with access. It’s going to be dubious, but it should work. We should be armed, but it can’t be visible, because there are guards all over the place, we have to be natural. Pretend to belong. Hyungwon and Minhyuk are kept in a special section, and we need to make our way up there. I’ll confirm details around this part later, but bottom line is, we pick them up, we go out, and then they’re free.”

 

“That simple?” Changkyun frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a lot of trouble. Why haven’t we done it before?”

 

“If we are discovered, we wouldn’t have had enough firepower to get out,” Jooheon winces. “Hyunwoo-hyung helps a lot, and the data collection on this place has taken a long time to get down. We needed to map down everything, get the proper codes, personnel profiles, schedules, and so on. The more information we have, the easier it is to make this as inconspicuous as possible. We don’t want to get caught.”

 

“And what about them?” Hoseok interjects acidly, still staring out the window. “Are they in any condition to be moved?”

 

“That’s one of the details I need to figure out,” Jooheon replies, and oh, how hard he works to maintain his composure. He can tell that the others are looking between the two of them with confusion – not quite knowing what happened outside after the first test of the machine, but they have realized a long time ago that something isn’t quite right. “I’ll start going in soon. We’ll make it work.”

 

“I hope so.” Hoseok still doesn’t look at him, and it frustrates Jooheon.

 

He’ll show him.

 

He’ll prove it to them.

 

They can trust him – the cause is true.

 

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and when Jooheon turns, he sees Kihyun’s earnest eyes smiling back at him. It’s the first genuine smile Jooheon has seen from him in – months, he realizes with a start.

 

He tries to not think about what Hoseok said – about the resistance turning Kihyun into an assassin.

 

He doesn’t want to believe that. He can’t believe that. His fragile, little hyung from childhood, with a too big mouth until it was suddenly sewn shut – the gentle caretaker, the victim.

 

He couldn’t kill anyone.

 

He’s harmless.

 

“Thank you,” Kihyun says, quietly, his voice still rough and constantly sounding a bit unused. “Thank you, Jooheon.”

 

“Always,” Jooheon smiles back, takes Kihyun’s hand in his own.

 

On the other side of the room, he sees Hoseok frown and purse his lips.

 

What he doesn’t see, though, is Changkyun’s shaking his head in frustration.

 

But Hyunwoo sees.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hyunwoo sees, and Hyunwoo remembers.

 

He approaches Changkyun later, in a rare moment away from Kihyun – a moment when Kihyun is out, doing “jobs” or something, whatever that means. Hyunwoo doesn’t know, but he thinks it’s a little bit weird that Kihyun is sent out on missions while the rest of them stay back at the school. Except for Jooheon, of course, who is still out doing his own thing, proper resistance work, high clearance.

 

Almost like a professional. The thought makes Hyunwoo want to laugh.

 

But he can’t laugh now – not when Changkyun looks so upset and lost.

 

It’s like that first night Hyunwoo came back, when Changkyun looked absolutely devastated. He never quite returned to the bright, if concerned boy Hyunwoo knew back at the village. There is a constant air of melancholy to him now, something incredibly sad that he brings with him wherever he goes.

 

Hyunwoo isn’t exactly a psychologist, and he isn’t the best with feelings.

 

But he can’t leave Changkyun alone like this either.

 

He finds him in a quiet room, away from the others, hidden away in the middle of a pile of teddy bears. Hoseok had explained this to him earlier, that they use them as vessels for the drugs – that they are unassuming enough, especially sold from Changkyun’s innocent face, that they don’t immediately arouse any suspicion. It sounded reasonable, but looking at it like this – in a dark, abandoned pool area, with knives and scissors and needles spread out all over the floor, button eyes falling off and Changkyun stacked between their obnoxiously bright faces –

 

It’s unnerving.

 

But Hyunwoo settles down next to him anyway, glancing down at the handheld game Changkyun plays idly. The screen lights up the room, just a little, enough to illuminate Changkyun’s face in an eerie green-blue colour.

 

He puts the game down when Hyunwoo scoots closer.

 

“How are you?” Hyunwoo starts. He isn’t good with conversations either, certainly not starting them, but he thinks Changkyun will take pity on him. He should be able to get something out of him.

 

“Uhm… Okay?”

 

Maybe not.

 

“You don’t seem okay?” Hyunwoo presses, tries, anyway, and he wonders how he should steer this the way he wants. “You seemed upset earlier?”

 

“Oh.” Changkyun looks down at his hands. “I guess. I kind of am.”

 

“Why?”

 

Changkyun looks up at him with a frown, not in disapproval but confusion. “Hyung, why are you..?”

 

“Shouldn’t I ask what’s wrong?” Hyunwoo frowns back. “I just want to help. That’s not wrong, is it?”

 

“No, it’s not, I’m…” Changkyun shakes his head and gives him a small smile, encouraging. “I’m sorry, of course, thank you, hyung. I just don’t know what to say, because it’s all kind of… Difficult, right now.”

 

“Everything?”

 

“Everything.” Changkyun confirms with a loud exhale. “Mostly Kihyun-hyung. Mostly the resistance. Jooheon-hyung, a bit.”

 

“That does sound like everything,” Hyunwoo agrees, nudges his shoulder a little in a way he hopes conveys support.

 

Changkyun bites his lip, but doesn’t move away from the touch.

 

That’s a good sign.

 

Hyunwoo hasn’t needed to be a supportive figure for Changkyun in years. Not like this, anyway – Changkyun always had someone else at the orphanage, someone who was more finely attuned to his moods and better suited to have emotional heart-to-hearts with the youngest boy. And then, Changkyun suddenly grew up very fast, after the fire – suddenly he had to be the strong one. And then Hyunwoo became even more distant, when his uncle fell ill… It was a messy time, and in hindsight, Hyunwoo regrets not being there for his younger friends.

 

But he was just a kid, and times were hard on him as well.

 

It’s just another thing he needs to make up for now.

 

“I don’t really like this resistance much,” Changkyun starts, making Hyunwoo look up in surprise.

 

He likes the resistance. They’re fighting for the right things – freedom, justice. Everything he has always wanted.

 

The resistance freed him.

 

How can Changkyun dislike them?

 

“What’s wrong with the resistance?” He asks, straight up.

 

Changkyun glances at him, oddly, before a knowing look morphs from his scepticism. It’s weird, because Changkyun shouldn’t look this wise. “I know the resistance has helped you, but they’re – some aspects are not that nice.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like… The brutality, the ruthlessness, and the way they take advantage of innocents.” Changkyun throws an arm out over the bears. “Like these. I don’t think it’s fair that we use people’s weaknesses to fund a war campaign. We’re destroying their lives, just for a chance to shoot some more people in the field. And they don’t even have anything to do with this fight – not like us, we signed up for the resistance. We have chosen the risks, but they haven’t.”

 

Hyunwoo can see that point, he thinks. This is about – this is about the difference between good people and bad people again. Good people don’t take advantage of others. They fight for what they believe in, and they decimate their obstacles. But they don’t kick people lying down, they don’t deceive and hunt innocents.

 

That is problematic.

 

But still – the resistance _are_ good people, mostly at least, and they fight for good people. They must be good. Maybe they have a few rotten eggs… But Hyunwoo can talk to Jooheon, maybe they can remove these people from the resistance, maybe they can reduce it to well-meaning, good people –

 

It takes him a second to realize that Changkyun is still talking.

 

“ – and that guy, I just… Kihyun-hyung is…” Changkyun is saying, but he trails off again, and Hyunwoo wonders if his mind is as jumbled as his speech. “I’m worried about him. He’s doing scary things, and he’s… Not taking care of himself.”

 

“What sort of scary things?” It’s terribly non-descript, and Hyunwoo has not been able to get a good answer for this out of anyone else so far. It irks him, a little bit.

 

“He’s… I don’t now exactly, he refuses to tell us. And that’s worrying in itself. But sometimes, he gets in these moods, or states, I guess, like he’s terrified of his own shadow, completely closes himself off, shakes, and… And goes out with weapons. Comes back with  - well, he thinks I can’t see it, but of course I do. I never miss anything about Kihyun-hyung.”

 

He sighs.

 

“I wish he would trust me with it, if nothing else – but mostly I just want him to stop and not hurt himself further. He’s not doing his body any favours either.”

 

“Hoseok knows about this too?” It’s the only question Hyunwoo can ask that Changkyun might have an answer for. The poor boy sounds like he has exhausted this topic with himself already, tried to wrap his head around it without success, and Hyunwoo thinks, he needs to be careful. He doesn’t know what he’s stirring into, and maybe he’s moving forward too quickly – or too slow?

 

He doesn’t know, but he’ll try his best.

 

“Not what he does, but he agrees with me that it’s an annoying situation,” Changkyun shrugs. “He doesn’t know what to do either. But we think Jooheon might be able to help, what with how deep he is in the organization – the resistance? I don’t know. But nothing so far, and…”

 

“And?”

 

“And Kihyun-hyung just won’t stop,” Changkyun groans and buries his head in his arms. “He just keeps going in with no respect for his own safety – and what would happen to us if he should – “

 

He doesn’t trail off this time as much as just lose his words to a choked sob.

 

“I’m sorry, hyung, but I just can’t take this anymore!”

 

Hyunwoo stares at him for a second. What should he do? Where is Kihyun – or even Hoseok, the ones usually dealing with Changkyun when he’s upset?

 

They’re not here, and they didn’t come running as soon as Changkyun let out that pained noise, and Hyunwoo supposes – he supposes it’s up to him, this time.

 

He closes the last remaining distance between the two of them and wraps his arms awkwardly around Changkyun’s shoulders, and is relieved when Changkyun immediately melts into his chest.

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “Nothing’s wrong with being sad. It sounds like you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

 

In his grip, Changkyun nods slowly. Hyunwoo nods along with him, subconsciously, while he ponders what to say next.

 

It hurts to see Changkyun like this. He shouldn’t be so sad, he shouldn’t have to deal with all these problems. Hyunwoo doesn’t know what he, or anyone else, really, could do to make Changkyun happy again.

 

He wants to make Changkyun happy again.

 

He wants to make everyone happy again.

 

“It’s going to be alright, in the end,” he starts, but it doesn’t sound right, it sounds fake – despite his own sincerity, some promises are just empty, and he can’t genuinely say he knows things will be fine. He hopes they will be – and he will do anything in his power to right the wrongs of this world.

 

But he is only one man.

 

And now, he is painfully aware of his own limitations.

 

“What can we do to help, Changkyun? Please don’t cry.”

 

“I don’t know,” is the choked reply from deep inside their little lump, muffled and thick, and Hyunwoo hears a sniffle follow the sad admission. He feels the wetness on his shirt as well, but he doesn’t even remotely care.

 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

 

What can he say to that? He really wishes someone else was here, with them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to support Changkyun, it’s just that Changkyun would probably get better help elsewhere.

 

But they aren’t here. It’s just Hyunwoo – he doesn’t know where they are, why Changkyun is alone – but he will have to do what he can. “We’ll try our best, but you – if there’s anything you need, or anything you want… Don’t hesitate to tell us, okay? We won’t think any less of you, regardless of what it is.”

 

And does Changkyun stiffen a little in his hold? Maybe?

 

What does that mean?

 

“Thanks, hyung. I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

It’s all Changkyun says, and Hyunwoo figures that’s the end of the conversation. There is nothing more to say.

 

But he allows himself to tighten his hold around Changkyun just a little bit, and Changkyun doesn’t protest.

 

They’ll be alright.

 

Eventually.

 

They’ll have to be.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“You know, Jooheon…” Gunhee starts tentatively, chewing on his bottom lip slightly. It’s not a nervous habit, more of a contemplative one – Jooheon has seen the little tic enough times to interpret the various nuances of it by now, has become so attuned to Gunhee’s moods that he is able to read him by a glance.

 

Gunhee, who listens to his complaints and worries with an almost uncharacteristic patience – it’s not uncharacteristic at all, actually, it’s just at odds with his first impression, but Gunhee is a man of many layers.

 

Jooheon has learned as much.

 

Which is why, when he crawls into bed with Gunhee that night, savouring the heat in the approach cool months, he allows himself to spill his concerns to the other uncensored, unabashedly.

 

And Gunhee offers him a truthful response.

 

That’s worth the most.

 

“The resistance is not for everyone. You have found a home here, and you’ve become our family as well - but maybe your friends don’t see it that way. I know that you grew up together and want them to stay with you, but… People have different interests and priorities, and you don’t _have_ to stay with them for the rest of your lives. Maybe you’ve just grown apart?”

 

Jooheon considers that notion for a second.

 

He trusts Gunhee, probably more than anyone right now, because Gunhee _gets it._ He gets everything Jooheon is all about, everything Jooheon has found in the resistance and everything he wants from the future.

 

But otherwise…

 

All his life has been dedicated to these boys. There hasn’t been anyone besides them – besides his friends. They have _been_ his family, shared his ups and downs and supported him along the way, regardless of their own struggles. When Minhyuk came to the orphanage after the death of his parents, he was devastated, angry, and above all a changed boy trying to cope with the unfairness of a world that didn’t know he existed. But despite all of that, Minhyuk took afternoons aside to teach Jooheon how to draw. Helped him turn stickmen into people, waves into mountains and flat clusters of circles into beautiful roses.

 

It’s not much, but it meant a lot to Jooheon at the time, and it’s a skill he’s found a use for during his investigations.

 

His life has been full of these moments, the little things that created happy memories during an otherwise stunted childhood. Hoseok stealing a chicken from the farm next door to cook for Jooheon’s birthday (and getting yelled at by his brother for it), Kihyun patching up his knee after he stubbed it while playing, Hyunwoo mediating their existence to the rest of the village, sharing scary stories with Changkyun under a blanket, Hyungwon encouraging his rebellious streak at an early age.

 

And he has given them his life in return – he has been a part of this circle of mutual security since the very beginning, seeing his life permeated by the survival of six other boys.

 

Until now.

 

The resistance, instead of being their salvation, has become a crossroad, where Jooheon wants to go one way, _needs_ to go one way, and the others hesitate.

 

Jooheon wishes they could open their eyes and see that the other way is just a dead end.

 

But if they – if he needs to choose, then maybe Gunhee is right. Maybe it’s time for Jooheon to stop splitting his loyalties and dedicate himself to the one thing he has chosen for himself, and the one cause that truly needs him. His mind goes to the old mark, the twisted, defiant crossing of two lines over his back. It burns accusingly.

 

It hurts, but if he has to choose, he knows where he will stay.

 

(And it feels like he is throwing away his entire life, everyone and everything that has ever meant anything to him, but it’s a sacrifice. And they all have to make sacrifices for the resistance.)

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

At some point during the preparation for the second raid, the one that will reunite them with Minhyuk and Hyungwon and restore their gang to full numbers, Changkyun approaches the others with a grim look, but determined steps.

 

Kihyun is the first to react, standing up stiffly on his crutches and limping three steps to meet him as the others look up.

 

He doesn’t come in with a speech prepared, and from a brief glance, he looks like he would any other day, making his way back from the bathroom while the rest of them pour over details and plans and keep up the regular maintenance of the machine.

 

But these boys know him well enough to tell – especially Kihyun.

 

Always Kihyun.

 

Changkyun wants to cry, but there is nothing else to do.

 

He has thought about this for a while, toyed with the notion, considered it – what would the others say? Would they accept it? Would they understand?

 

Probably not. He wishes they would, but they won’t, and that’s part of the problem in the first place, isn’t it?

 

They have too different views. Incompatible – and it’s tearing Changkyun apart, slowly, but more rapidly with each passing day, and it won’t take long before he has passed the point of no return.

 

Then again – this is also sort of a milestone, one that he is fairly sure he is right about….

 

But it still breaks his heart.

 

“Changkyun?” Kihyun looks at him, calls him by name instead of just giving him a meaningful glance, and he definitely knows that something is up.

 

More than anything, Changkyun wishes that he didn’t have to do this to Kihyun.

 

But he can’t be the only one accommodating the others forever.

 

He needs to take a stand.

 

Kihyun should accept that.

 

He should respect him for that.

 

He doesn’t have to love him for it, although Changkyun will never stop loving him.

 

“I’ll help freeing them,” He grits out, looking at the floor. “But after that, I’m out. I can’t do this anymore, but… I owe Minhyuk and Hyungwon that much.”

 

“Changkyun…” Kihyun takes a hesitant step forward, hands twitching, instinctively wanting to reach out for comfort, but he keeps them by his side, resting on the crutches uncertainly. “Are you sure? What about us?”

 

“I’ve tried to close my eyes and just go along with it, but I can’t anymore,” Changkyun shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could ignore it. But what we’re doing isn’t right. We’re hurting people, and I.. I don’t want to be a part of that. And I don’t want you to be a part of it, either.”

 

Kihyun doesn’t say anything to that, so Hoseok steps forward with an apologetic expression and puts a hand on Kihyun’s shoulder. It’s a solid weight, and Changkyun is glad that Kihyun will have Hoseok, at least, when he leaves. “We don’t like it, but it’s… Aren’t we just doing what needs to be done?”

 

It’s not a rhetorical question, and Changkyun can hear the doubt in Hoseok’s words. He is asking for an argument, something convincing that can help justify his own insecurities, but Changkyun isn’t good with words, and he’s already tried to make this case before without success.

 

But most importantly, Hoseok won’t leave as long as anyone of them stays behind. And they are staying behind – Jooheon and Hyunwoo, certainly, maybe even Minhyuk and Hyungwon, once they get them out. And Kihyun – Kihyun is staying. He is sure of it. No one else is ready to let go - Changkyun knows he isn’t going to win that fight today.

 

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” he says instead, looking at Kihyun specifically, willing him to understand – to come with him, to leave all of this behind, to allow himself to live a selfish life.

 

“You don’t have to,” Kihyun says instead, quietly, and Changkyun has never heard Kihyun sound so broken because of him. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s heard Kihyun sound so broken since the soldiers first muted him, all those years ago, and the weight of his decisions threatens to send him crushing to the ground at the realization.

 

But this has been a long time coming. He is convinced, he knows he won’t be able to stand this any longer, and he has to stay firm to his convictions.

 

And let them stay true to theirs.

 

“I do, Kihyun-hyung,” he says, scratching absentmindedly at the tattoo behind his ear. Half-willling Kihyun to mirror his motion, even though he doesn’t know why. “I do.”

 

“Okay,” Hoseok sighs, and Changkyun can see his hand tightening on Kihyun’s shoulder. “Okay. If that’s your decision, we’ll have to respect it. But it doesn’t change anything – you’re always welcome back, and we’ll always be there for you when you need it, Changkyun.”

 

“I know,” Changkyun agrees, even though it’s a lie, they won’t always be there for him – they _can’t,_ and that’s why they are at this crossroads in the first place. Wishing for something doesn’t make it so, and their world is harsh and unforgiving. It’s not a fairy tale, far from it, and there doesn’t seem to be a happy ending assisted by benevolent magical helpers in sight.

 

Instead, there is just more pain and difficult decisions.

 

Hyunwoo and Jooheon don’t say anything, not yet, although Changkyun is sure they will have something to say about the issue at some point. He is surprised Jooheon isn’t immediately trying to pull him back in, but maybe he is tired as well.

 

Changkyun can empathize with that. Even if they are on opposite sides of the spectrum, and Changkyun sort of detests him for keeping all of the others with him in the resistance, he is so familiar with the discomfort of arguing with his friends over the same topic, over and over again.

 

But for him, it’s different.

 

Changkyun is the one who has to accept defeat this time.

 

It hurts.

 

And when he looks into Kihyun’s eyes, he knows he isn’t the only one hurting.

 

Although he is proud for standing up for his beliefs, he also hates himself a little bit.

 

He misses the times when things were simpler – when it was just them against the world.

 

And now, it’s like there are five hundred different sides to choose from, and Changkyun doesn’t even know what they all stand for.

 

He wishes he didn’t have to leave.

 

But he has to.

 

That’s all.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Jooheon sneaks in first, 24 hours in advance, and then again at 12.

 

He does not make a very convincing figure – a young, ruffled-looking man posing in worn doctor’s robes, hardly the epitome of professionality and cynicism that most people in this institution must possess.

 

And yet, he walks through relatively undisturbed.

 

An occasional glance here, maybe a frown there. But no one stops him. Everyone are too busy with themselves, their own tasks, their own patients, simply too caught up in their own little world to comprehend that maybe, _maybe_ that weird guy shouldn’t be here, and _maybe_ they should do something to question him.

 

And he’s been doing this for a while now – gone in and out of the hospital to collect information, only wearing a relatively poor disguise, and yet not one has done anything to stop him. If anything, they have gotten used to him. And that is just sad, he thinks, that the security of these vulnerable patients mean so little to the medical staff that they cannot even be arsed to stop a potential intruder and ask for his identification tag.

 

But of course – it’s not their problem. No one is stopping him, because that’s not their job, and if it’s not their job, someone else can do it. There is no passion or dedication in this place, no sense of responsibility or obligations towards the place or its inhabitants. Certainly not the kind to inspire loyalty beyond the duties for which they are paid.

 

It’s an odd mixture of the onlooker effect and pure laziness, one which both amuses and frustrates Jooheon.

 

Amuses him, because it is almost silly in its charade – that there is not a single individual with any kind of benevolent, independent thoughts. Instead, they are just robots fulfilling their tasks in an egocentric, almost robot-like manner.

 

And that frustrates him. How can these people not care about anything beyond themselves? How are they so isolated, caught up in their own heads and almost impressively neglectful of the world around them?

 

It’s disgusting.

 

And this. This is what allowed the rise of the terrible, black soldiers that have reduced their country to nothing but pale, trembling masses keeping their heads down and their neighbours far away. This is the sort of attitude and meekness that enabled the suffering of those few who resisted.

 

This is the sort of selfish weakness that Jooheon hates.

 

It hits him again and again, until he reaches Minhyuk and Hyungwon’s room and he gets something else to think about.

 

It’s disturbing, to see his old friends reduced to this. Vegetables, almost – but not quite. They are still capable, he knows, and some sort of awake – just not conscious. They are kept in a hazy dimension beyond their own, continuously drugged out and tested on, probed for information about the resistance, interrogated in moments of illusion, hoping that they will reveal something useful.

 

Jooheon hopes they have kept their mouths shut – but even so, the two of them knew no sensitive details. They knew no details at all, in fact – nothing important was being told to them at that time, it all went through Jooheon. And he filtered the necessary details carefully.

 

And now, looking at his friends lying still in their beds, hooked up to machines and kept still by sraightjackets even in their sleeping state – he thinks, maybe there are silver linings after all.

 

The sight that meets him every time he steps into their room makes him want to throw up, but he is stronger than that. He needs to keep calm, to tick off the schemas by the beds and replace their pills and injections with the Bluebird. It will still leave them a bit wonky, but happy, safe, comfortable, and it wears off quicker than the medication they are currently receiving. The medicine they do not need, but the medicine they are fed because some sick doctors have received the approval to go through with this kind of shit.

 

“Hyungwon,” he says, approaching the bed cautiously. It’s the middle of the night, and no one else is around – the nurse that was supposed to do the checks right now was relieved by the changes Jooheon made to the shift allocations, and he’s got the section to himself.

 

If there was anyone else on this floor that actually needed assistance from a proper medical professional – well, then Jooheon would feel bad.

 

But he has got to focus.

 

There shouldn’t be anyone else.

 

“Hyungwon!” He tries again, and shakes Hyungwon’s shoulder. No response.

 

“He’s a slow sleeper,” he hear Minhyuk say behind him, and when he turns around, Minhyuk is looking at him blearily. “Or is it heavy sleeper?”

 

“Minhyuk-hyung!” Jooheon scurries over. “Do you know who I am?”

 

Minhyuk frowns in concentration, tries to turn his head slightly. He only manages to press his face into the pillow. “Doc? Why’s a doctr…”

 

“No, I’m not a doctor,” Jooheon says, biting his lip. This isn’t Minhyuk. Minhyuk is bright and alive and loud.

 

Not a limp pile of confusion.

 

“But you’re dressed like that,” Minhyuk says, slurred. “You should be…”

 

“Well, I’m not,” Jooheon says firmly. “I’m Jooheon. Your friend. From the orphanage?”

 

“Jooheon?” Minhyuk tries the name a couple of times before his expression lights up. “Jooheon! Heonie! I like Heonie!”

 

“I like you too, hyung,” Jooheon smiles encouragingly.

 

“And he’s Hyungwon,” Minhyuk supplies helpfully, happy with his knowledge and contribution to the conversation. “He’s a bit weird, but I love him. He’s a good guy.”

 

“I know, he is,” Jooheon agrees and reaches for the pill in his coat pocket. “Hey Minhyuk-hyung – can you take this?”

 

“Pillsssssss!” Minhyuk groans, and turns around again. “Don’t like. Nope.”

 

“C’mon, hyung,” Jooheon sighs and prepares a glass of water from the stand at the bedside table. “It will help. It will make you feel better.”

 

“Better?”

 

“Yeah, better.” He smiles when Minhyuk glances up at him again. “I promise. And we’ll come help you soon, all of us. Everyone from the village, even Hyunwoo. You’ll feel much better then.”

 

He is a little bit worried that Minhyuk will remember enough to divulge this information later, but they won’t be long, and he probably won’t be taken serious – if he is even lucid enough to talk when the next doctor stops by.

 

For the sake of Minhyuk’s happy smile, Jooheon takes the risk.

 

He has missed that smile.

 

When Minhyuk swallows the blue pill and falls asleep, Jooheon turns to Hyungwon.

 

They’ll be okay. This will all be over soon.

 

He feels optimistic.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The bears look very innocent.

 

Kind, with bright eyes and soft arms and warm fur. If not outright dangerous, then at least they would be safe. They would be there when times get rough and there is no safer place than beneath a blanket, huddled in a corner, pressing legs against each other in the darkness.

 

This brown bear is like Changkyun, Kihyun decides.

 

And then he flinches, tears his eyes away from its soft gaze and puts it on the ground next to him.

 

He’s scared.

 

In fact, he’s terrified – not for the risk they take when they go into the hospital in only a few hours, because he has done far worse than that recently, still with success, and now he even has his friends to work with.

 

But he’s terrified of what comes after the breakout.

 

Changkyun said he would leave after they were done.

 

He said he would go away – leave them behind.

 

Kihyun knows it’s selfish, but he almost dreads the attainment of his friends’ freedom, because that means he might lose Changkyun.

 

If only – he said he would leave, but he could still change his mind afterwards. Maybe he will see Minhyuk and Hyungwon and decide that he needs to stay afterwards. Maybe he’ll remember why he has stayed so far – maybe he will see the light they are all dreaming about.

 

But what if he doesn’t.

 

What if he doesn’t, and stays true to his convictions – and leaves Kihyun.

 

They haven’t been on the best of terms lately, he knows that – and he has a fair share of the blame for that, but he has only tried to protect Changkyun. To pay him back for all the years he was Kihyun’s support, to be the safe hyung after all. And maybe the resistance has been less than innocent in their approaches to the fight, but all Kihyun ever wanted to do was to prove his worth to Changkyun. To prove that he didn’t stay with him in vain.

 

And now – is that why he is losing him?

 

But surely Changkyun must see – it’s a fight they need to see through. If they don’t, then someone else might suffer the way Kihyun has done – they might suffer like Hoseok has done, like Minhyuk and Hyungwon. Like Hyunwoo – all of them.

 

Kihyun doesn’t want anyone to suffer like they did.

 

If he has to give his life or his sanity to keep that from happening, he will.

 

But if it means losing Changkyun –

 

Maybe his heart will break before his body does.

 

The sounds of footsteps break his thoughts, and he looks up to see the perpetrator himself – Changkyun’s face is hooded, but not unkind or strange. He sits down on the floor in front of Kihyun, crossing his legs until their knees brush against each other, and reaches out for Kihyun’s hand.

 

Changkyun’s hands are warm and soft, not like Kihyun’s weathered and cold ones.

 

Kihyun wonders what to say, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to say anything. If he says anything, anything at all, he might say something that triggers Changkyun’s frustrations, and he doesn’t want that. Not if he wants to keep Changkyun by his side, not if he wants Changkyun to leave with happy memories of him.

 

He doesn’t dare speak, and when he swallows, he thinks he wouldn’t be able to. His throat feels tight, hot, and the familiar sense of trepidation blocking his voice keeps his mouth shut for a while longer.

 

But it’s okay.

 

He has never needed to talk to Changkyun. They have perfected their silence, to the extent that words are reserved only for the dearest, most important messages they need to get across.

 

And perhaps if there was a time to use words, it is now.

 

But Kihyun doesn’t know what he would say.

 

And apparently, neither does Changkyun – or maybe he doesn’t want to say anything. Maybe he just wants to sit here, quiet, and feel their closeness for one last time.

 

And please, _please,_ Kihyun thinks, do not let this be the last time. Even if he leaves tomorrow, please let there be another time, in a while, another place, another purpose.

 

Please.

 

He gives Changkyun’s hands a squeeze. A silent prayer, because from here on and out, it’s all up to Changkyun.

 

No matter what he does, Kihyun will respect his choice.

 

Even if he doesn’t agree.

 

Even if he wishes they wouldn’t come to that.

 

Changkyun still doesn’t say anything, but Kihyun is okay with that. Just sitting like this, close, together, for as long as they can until the intimacy is nothing but a bittersweet memory. If they just sit like this, not speaking, not allowing any sign of time passing, then maybe they can pretend that they will always stay together after all.

 

They can pretend like this is it. That this is the only thing, the rest of the world, and anything else is irrelevant. Their friends on the other side of the wall, their hearts open –

 

But that is a lie, isn’t it.

 

They aren’t open with each other, at least not like they used to.

 

And Kihyun regrets it so much. He regrets what he has done, he regrets not telling Changkyun, he regrets worrying Changkyun, he regrets the painful life they walked straight into, wide-eyed and ambitious and hopeful.

 

And yet –

 

He would do it all again.

 

There was never any other choice.

 

“Changkyun…” He starts, winces at the rasp in his voice, the thickness of it, the little tremor towards the end. Breaking the silence feels like a raging tornado within the small, confined space, and Kihyun knows he has broken the spell. But he has fucked up so much already, one more problem on his conscience isn’t going to make a difference. Not when this needs to be said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but… Everything I did, I did for you. For us.”

 

“Kihyun…” Changkyun says, and his voice is the sweetest, sweetest thing in the universe. Chocolate heavy and soft, the best and single comfort Kihyun would ever need.

 

But he can’t – he needs to speak right now.

 

“I can do something,” he continues, even as he sees Changkyun’s brows knit downwards in a frown. “For you, and… Anyone like us…”

 

“That’s not your responsibility, hyung,” Changkyun says carefully. “There are others… And it doesn’t have to be you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

 

“But how can I live with myself if I just ignore it all? How can I protect you?” And he hates how it comes out, hates how he sounds so weak and unable to protect anyone – let alone Changkyun.

 

He expects a rebuttal, but Changkyun just shakes his head tiredly.

 

“I know, but you – let’s just not fight tonight, hyung. I don’t want us to be mad.”

 

“Me neither, I’m – I’m sorry, Changkyun,” Kihyun bites his lip, feels tears welling in his eyes, but he won’t let them drop. Not now. Tomorrow, and the day after – not today. Not now.

 

Not when Changkyun is looking.

 

“I love you.”

 

Changkyun’s head moves up so quickly Kihyun fears he’ll have a whiplash, but Changkyun’s eyes are only trained on Kihyun. Wide, staring and almost scared. “Hyung…”

 

“I hope you know that, Changkyun,” Kihyun interrupts him, remorse colouring his words and clogging his mouth. “I need you to know that. Even if you leave and I stay, I… I love you. Please don’t forget me.”

 

“Hyung…” Changkyun says again, bottom lip quivering. Then he grabs both of Kihyun’s hands, and tugs him forward until he practically falls into Changkyun’s lap. He can’t help but let out a small yelp as the sudden movement tugs at his lower back, but then he is so close to Changkyun, and he thinks it’s okay.

 

He won’t ever forget Changkyun, but he needs to savour this memory. Changkyun, whole, strong, hurt, but not beaten – brave, little Changkyun who dares to speak up and do what he thinks is right, even when that means he goes out into the world all alone.

 

There has never been a person Kihyun admired more.

 

“You know I’ll think of you every day,” Changkyun promises him, quietly, just a soft whisper in his ear. And Kihyun believes him, because how could he not? Changkyun would never lie to him, not like Kihyun has done, and he truly is the best person Kihyun knows.

 

Too good. Too pure for this war.

 

Too nice for this life.

 

Kihyun will think of him every day as well.

 

How could he not?

 

He tightens his arms around Changkyun’s neck and pretends that they aren’t being separated tomorrow. Pretends that this will last forever.

 

He is too cynical to believe in his own fantasies, but at least, when we voices them to Changkyun, he laughs, and the sound is something Kihyun will cherish even when their bed has become quiet.

 

He will have to be strong.

 

For Changkyun.

 

A different kind of strong – not the independent, resourceful one he has come to appreciate lately.

 

Instead a kind of strong – the one Changkyun wants him to be.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

There is a haze in his mind when he wakes up, and it lingers for a while, until he falls asleep again.

 

The next time he wakes up, the haze is still there, but less blatant, doesn’t scream at him and block all other senses as it did before. He opens his eyes and there is someone standing before him, hand stretched out, holding something, brightly coloured, near his mouth.

 

“Eat it, Hyungwon,” someone says, and it sounds as if their voice is dragged through water, splintered, an audible blur. But they know his name, and sound like they know more about what’s going on than he does.

 

So he leans forward and wraps his lips around the little object.

 

It tastes sweet.

 

When he falls asleep, he falls asleep thinking about Minhyuk.

 

The next time he wakes up, he knows that something is off. He doesn’t remember much about where he is or what he is doing – but he is trapped in a bed, Minhyuk is next to him, blinking sleep out of his eyes as well, and then before he can think twice, Jooheon steps in between their beds.

 

Odd. Johoeon isn’t a doctor. Why is he dressed like one?

 

“Boys,” Jooheon says, squatting down and looking between them with a grave expression. It’s funny, and doesn’t suit his face, Hyungwon thinks. He wants to laugh and point it out, but his lips move sluggishly and the sound gets lost somewhere in his mouth.

 

Fortunately, Minhyuk doesn’t have that problem – Minhyuk never had problems talking, that’s true.

 

“Jooheoniiieee,” Minhyuk wails, with a dopey smile and rolling head, looking as if he’s trying to inch closer to Jooheon on the floor. “I miss you, Jooheonie!”

 

“I miss you too, hyung,” Jooheon assures him, pats his shoulder.

 

Hyungwon wants to be petted on the shoulder as well.

 

“Jooheon,” he slurs, noting the dry feeling in his mouth. “Where are we?”

 

“Awkward situation,” Jooheon says with a smile. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here soon – the others will be here too. You want that, right?”

 

Yes. Yes, Hyungwon does want that. He misses the others as well. He misses Minhyuk, even though he is in the bed on the other side of the room. So close, but Hyungwon hasn’t hugged him in ages.

 

He wants to hug Minhyuk.

 

He wants Minhyuk to laugh like he used to.

 

“Wanna go out,” Minhyuk agrees, nodding along with Jooheon’s words. “Get us out, Jooheonie!”

 

“Then don’t worry,” Jooheon says, as he stands – is he leaving already? “We will get you in soon, and then you won’t have to suffer from this ever again.”

 

Suffer?

 

This?

 

Hyungwon has so many questions, but then Jooheon turns around and leaves, and there is just Minhyuk and Hyungwon left in the room.

 

Minhyuk looks over at him. “Jooheonie is weird, isn’t he?”

 

“You are weird,” Hyungwon retorts.

 

“So are you!” Minhyuk shoots back just as quick.

 

But then Hyungwon drowns again, in his own head, into black oblivion and nothingness.

 

And when he wakes up next, he is fully conscious of everything going on around him. The itchy shirt, the way his hands are tied, the hunger in his stomach and the beeping sound pounding in his head.

 

And Minhyuk sitting down against Hyungwon’s bed, resting his head on the mattress with his feet pulled up underneath himself.

 

“Good morning,” Minhyuk turns his head and smiles at him when he hears Hyungwon shuffle around. “Sleep well?”

 

“Not at all,” Hyungwon snorts, wincing a little as the harsh exhale puts pressure on an aching part of his skull. “And I’m still confused as hell. But I remember a little bit more..? Maybe?”

 

“Yes, things are coming back to me as well,” Minhyuk nods, and Hyungwon can hear the anger flare through the statement. “Do you remember Jooheon promising to get us out?”

 

“No…” Hyungwon says, but then he racks his brain. Tries to think. Yes, he did see Jooheon, in a doctor’s uniform, completely mismatched and peculiar as anything he’s ever seen. “Yes…. Yes I did. When are they coming?”

 

“Hopefully soon,” Minhyuk says with a wince, rotating his shoulder a little in an attempt to move his aching arm muscles. “I don’t want to spend another minute in this place, conscious or not.”

 

And Hyungwon agrees.

 

Hyungwon wholeheartedly agrees.

 

The needles, the pills, the confusion and blurred control of his own head, it’s all horrifying and painful, and certainly something he would rather put behind him as a painful memory.

 

At least before, there was only pain from the outside – bruises, cuts, harsh words and even disownment. But this – the complete loss of any semblance of power over himself, was nauseating and scary.

 

He is almost glad that he doesn’t remember the majority of it.

 

But then he doesn’t have any time to contemplate his woes any further, because the door behind their beds bursts open, and there –

 

The sweetest sight he has ever laid eyes on.

 

He first sees Hyunwoo, in a white uniform reminiscent of a nurse? Maybe, it’s official-looking anyway, but –

 

Isn’t Hyunwoo in prison?

 

Then Jooheon bursts into the room, in his silly doctor’s outfit, just as Hyungwon seemed to remember from his dreamlike state, the odd green coat and white scrubs – it’s all completed by the odd little disc on top of his head, the one Hyungwon doesn’t understand the purpose of even in moments of clarity.

 

Behind him, the others follow – Changkyun, Kihyun and Hoseok, all dressed in white, like nurses or patients.

 

What have they been up to?

 

“Guys!” Minhyuk cries out, happily, stumbles to his feet, and in a second, Hyunwoo is there, untangling the shirt and freeing his arms quickly. Hyungwon tries to slide off the bed, and Hoseok comes over to help him with his shirt.

 

“Missed us?” Changkyun jokes, lingering by the door with an occasional glance out in the corridor.

 

“Not your ugly face,” Minhyuk snickers and starts swinging his arms. “None of the drugs could fix that memory.”

 

“Rude,” Changkyun sticks his tongue out, but the act only half conceals his smile.

 

“What’s going on?” Hyungwon asks, nods gratefully to Hoseok as the shirt falls off, and oh – _oh,_ that’s lovely. The claustrophobic feeling lingering at the edge of his consciousness finally slips away as blood returns to his arms, like a rush of relief, feeling complete for the first time since he can remember.

 

Hoseok snickers a little when he replies, “we’re getting you out, of course!”

 

“Out of where, exactly? What is this place?”

 

“Time for that later,” Jooheon urges, shoving them in the direction of the door. “We just need to get out, out – storytime can wait.”

 

Changkyun and Kihyun move into the hallway first, nodding and giving them thumbs up before they drag Minhyuk and Hyungwon out the door.

 

It’s weird, seeing everyone together like this, but then they all start walking down the corridor, sneaking, jumping, walking straight when necessary and –

 

And they’re together, on their way towards freedom.

 

And when they are finally together again, all seven of them, it feels like a dream come true.

 

Suddenly whatever issues or problems they have had, whatever issues they have faced during their time away, they don’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is this. Just seven brothers, running together towards freedom and unity after such a long time apart.

 

It’s strange – so very strange.

 

It feels surreal, like another trip on drugs and a dangerous illusion too near and ideal reality to be true, but Hyungwon pinches himself as they turn a corner and yes, it’s real.

 

He looks to the side and sees Minhyuk, pale and muted, but alive, animated, and when he reaches out to brush his hand against Minhyuk’s shoulder, he feels real. When his hand moves downwards to link with Minhyuk’s long fingers, he feels a soft squeeze against his thumb.

 

It makes Hyungwon’s stomach do heaps and loops - Minhyuk looks so eager, so passionate and full of life, like he is ready to take on the world and everyone who dares to oppose him. He looks the same way as he did before – before all of _this_ started, back when his vast supplies of energy were spent on happier thoughts, pranks and putting smiles on everyone else’s faces. Not like now, when his heart is consumed by anger and regret and vengefulness. But, looking at Minhyuk on his way towards freedom once more, hand intertwined with Hyungwon’s and teeth glittering under the fluorescent lights – maybe there is still hope for the Minhyuk that once was.

 

The others look so animated as well, much more than Hyungwon would expect from the last time he saw them – Hyunwoo is smiling, stretching, making use of his muscles – are they bigger than before? Or is Hyungwon simply misremembering? Regardless of what it is, he can’t help but be impressed by the warrior-like figure Hyunwoo presents, the ease with which he moves, the power hidden behind a gentle smile.

 

It seems like a different Hyunwoo, a stronger Hyunwoo than who he saw before – in stark contrast to Changkyun, who looks smaller, but maybe that’s just in comparison. When he catches Hyungwon’s eyes, he smiles encouragingly, flashing him another thumbs up before turning to Kihyun - Kihyun, running along with the rest of them, and Hyungwon never imagined that he could be this _fast._ There is not even a hint of hesitancy in his steps, no painful flinches, not slow movements that could indicate any physical disabilities, and it becomes another dream Hyungwon allows himself to indulge in. A dream where Kihyun wasn’t hurt and scarred for life, a dream where he can walk around as freely as the rest of them and speak up whenever he wanted to, a dream where he is – where he is whole.

 

But more so than anything, he sees the change in Jooheon.

 

Less dodgy, unsure, and angry – instead decisive and strong, like a general herding his troops. He leads the group, through the hallways and controlling the pace, his shoulders set in a confident square and eyes steely as they search out their prize – freedom.

 

It’s the Jooheon that Jooheon always wanted to be, the leader, the fighter, the powerful, righteous man of his dreams. Jooheon is fulfilling his own dreams, Hyungwon can see as much.

 

And when the final door opens, when they stumble out into fresh air and blinding lights, when the confused calls behind them mean nothing and they finally taste the morning dew still hanging in on therays of light –

 

Hyungwon’s dream is true as well.

 

He is free.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Then they are back.

 

Hyungwon an Minhyuk are strolling around the school, around the assembly hall and the machine and the little offices they have claimed as a bedroom. Their expressions show awe, fear, and confusion, but more so than anything, a relief that they are finally out, finally free, finally able to find their way in their own minds.

 

Kihyun should be happy for them, but he isn’t.

 

The sun is rising on the horizon, just filtering in through the grimy windows and shredded curtains, but the warm light does nothing to dispel the coldness in his chest.

 

Changkyun left.

 

Didn’t even come back with them to the school, just took off at an intersection and never once looked over his shoulder until he disappeared in the distance, like a spectre of his imagination. Kihyun had stared after him, wanted to call out and beg him to return, but his voice failed him and instead became a snake constricting his throat, suffocating him again with the tightness in his chest and the panicked murmur in his head, just like before, like after the fire –

 

_Not you, Changkyun. Everyone but you._

His legs ached, from wear or the desire to run after Changkyun, Kihyun couldn’t say, but the pain must have been evident for the others to see, because Hoseok put a hand around his shoulder, and Kihyun accepted the silent support stiffly.

 

Hoseok’s hands are bigger, stronger, warmer than Changkyun’s, and no less safe, but they are different. They are different from what Kihyun wanted once the last speck of Changkyun’s fake, white uniform disappeared into the night.

 

And now –

 

Now he is gone, and Kihyun is biting his nails, because it has only been a few hours, but he is still afraid that he’s losing Changkyun for good even in his memories. He promised he would remember him, but is he really able to? How deep does his voice go? Does his left eye crinkle as much as his right when he laughs? How many moles did he have on his hands?

 

Are his cheekbones sharper than Kihyun’s own?

 

Does he know how to boil rice well?

 

Can he make friends easily?

 

Is he able to sleep alone?

 

Is he –

 

“Kihyun.”

 

He looks up sharply.

 

Hoseok stands above him, arms crossed and frown deepening as he looks down at Kihyun’s crouched form.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, quietly, so not to alert the others.

 

Kihyun shakes his head. He can’t talk about it. He doesn’t know how to talk about it.

 

He just wants Changkyun back, wants to undo his acceptance of Changkyun’s departure, wants to turn back time –

 

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere.

 

“Maybe you should have gone with him,” Hoseok says, and he says it so carefully, but Kihyun still jerks at the idea.

 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought of it himself. It’s not as if he doesn’t hate himself for standing rooted to the spot while Changkyun walked away, doesn’t loathe everything he has become that would cause Changkyun to forsake him.

 

And yet –

 

“No,” he says, firmly, only choking a little at the short syllable. “I couldn’t. I can’t.”

 

“Kihyun – “

 

“I can’t, I need to stay here,” he says, shaking his head. “If I… I need to help them. They helped me. And there are still others… So many potential victims, hyung, I can’t let them be like me.”

 

“You can’t change that, Kihyun,” Hoseok sighs, crouches down before him. “But if you really won’t leave, can you at least promise me… You’ll let us help this time? It’s all Changkyun would want. That you let us in and stop hurting yourself so much.

 

Kihyun thinks about it. Hoseok is right, that is what Changkyun would have wanted – but there is a reason why Kihyun kept his secrets to himself in the first place.

 

Then again – those secrets have already cost him Changkyun.

 

He can’t lose anyone else.

 

He sees the image of Changkyun turning around, playing on repeat again and again as Changkyun steps away, and he knows, he can’t deal with that again.

 

“Okay,” he agrees, slowly. Then he nods, with more confidence. “Okay. I’ll – I’ll do that.”

 

Hoseok beams at him, looking relieved beyond words, and as he gets up, he leans forward to plant a kiss on Kihyun’s brow. “Good boy. We need to stick together.”

 

And Hoseok is right.

 

Hoseok is usually right, despite how much he doubts himself.

 

They need to stick together.

 

And when Kihyun falls asleep that night, surrenders himself to nightmares of death and loneliness, he knows, he has to stay. He has to keep going. He has to keep fighting.

 

The war isn’t over yet.

 

But when he wakes in the middle of the night, sweating, sobbing and with the deepest ache in his back, he only thinks that he wishes the war would end – one way or another.

 

That’s all.

 

The thought stays with him when he wakes up.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many regrets.
> 
> Obviously I had to put Gunhee and K.Will in there. And K.Will is not filth, please forgive me.
> 
> Also all the angst, I cannot, so sorry, but this is not a happy time. Never was, never will be. Hopefully it made some sense? Obviously I still have very few fucks to give about the blue flowers, and certainly not the "magic" Starship shoves down our throats.
> 
> Oh, Changkyun left because Starship forgot to edit him in at the end of the Fighter MV. I'm inspired by things like that.
> 
> If you see anything else that should be tagged, please let me know!! I legit can't remember everything that's in this fic...


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